


A Journey in the Dark

by patroclilles



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Violence, Family Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve, Other, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Smut, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patroclilles/pseuds/patroclilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the worst snowstorm to hit Chicago in decades. The wind had knocked down the power chords in front of the Gallagher home, and now there was a six foot long tree branch blocking the exit of the house, it was snowing like a bitch, it was dark as fuck, and Ian and Mickey were stuck in a powerless house full of Gallaghers. </p><p>Soup rations, anxiety attacks, wrestling over blankets, and much snuggling ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - An Unexpected Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, guys! I'd like to thank pretty much every fic writer I've had the pleasure to stumble upon - y'all really got me thinking about doing my own thing.
> 
> Set in the winter after 4x12, this fic is s1-4 canon compliant but definitely not s5 compliant. A lot of family oriented fluff and, of course, the needed dose of Gallavich smut. 
> 
> The title of this fic and all chapter titles allude to chapter titles of _The Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_ because I'm an unoriginal lil' shit. "A Journey in the Dark" is the fourth chapter of _The Two Towers_ and "An Unexpected Reunion" refers to the first chapter of _The Hobbit_. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mickey was glad Ian managed to convince him to come over to the Gallagher house and spend the night marathoning Disney films with Ian's family. Of course, he would never admit that to his boyfriend.

A few hours earlier, when Mickey came home from spending the afternoon checking in at the Alibi and the Rub 'n' Tug, Ian was on him within seconds.

"Hey, Mickey!" Ian beamed from the Milkovich kitchen where he was making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He took long strides towards the entrance to help Mickey shake off the snow that had accumulated on his coat and hood. Sandwich in one hand, he took a huge bite out of it while his other hand began to shove off snow from the top of Mickey's hood.

"Fuck off, will ya?" Mickey smacked Ian's hand away the second it touched his head.

"Sorry, sorry," Ian backed off a bit but remained silent, finishing chewing his bite and swallowing hard. He was thinking hard about how to bring up spending the night marathoning movies at the Gallaghers' to Mickey. It wasn't that Mickey wasn't fond of Ian's siblings, he just wasn't fond of so many fucking _people_ in such a small as fuck place.

So Ian stood there, watching a grumpy Mickey shrug off his coat and scarf, thinking a tad bit too long and too hard before Mickey noticed and broke his train of thought.

"The fuck you thinking about?" Mickey walked around him towards the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge. At that point Mandy had rounded the corner of the hallway. She bee-lined for the pack of cigarettes on the table before turning to Mickey, who was already drinking from his beer.

"Hey, asshole," she said to Mickey as she lit a cigarette. He grunted and tipped the bottom of his opened beer towards her in response.

He turned back to Ian and leaned his back against the counter. "So? Spit it, Gallagher."

Ian fidgeted, obviously trying to find the right string of words that wouldn't be responded to by a "fuck you," "fuck off," or the simple flipping of a middle finger.

"Debbie wants us to come over. The family wants to watch movies all night to celebrate the first day of Debbie and Carl's winter vacation. They all sounded really excited about it, even Lip, if you can believe it. They rented a bunch of movies; bought some popcorn; have joints all ready for us; they even have leftover candy from Halloween!" Ian shifted his feet before sputtering frantically, "Debbie explicitly told me to tell you there's a surplus of bite-sized Snickers."

"Slow the fuck down there, buddy," Mickey chuckled as he sized Ian up, a small smirk creeping up on the brunette's face.

Mickey had been taking care of Ian for months now. Well, Ian would never call it being "taken care of" because he was honestly too proud to ever vocally admit it. But the truth is that, yes, Mickey had definitely taken care of him in his time of most need.

Mickey waited a week after Ian's first depressive episode before he realized that, no, he couldn't do this alone and that, no, Ian was not going to get better if he did not get help. It was the most heart wrenching thing to do, to convince Ian to go see a psychiatrist and get prescribed medication. Trusting someone else with Ian's wellbeing was one of the hardest things for Mickey to do. And the very fact that Mickey wasn't enough to keep Ian happy anymore was even harder to face.

It was also a pain in the fucking ass to afford to see a psychiatrist, even if the doc had the cheapest rate in all of the Southside, and also afford the meds that came with that.

So whenever Mickey wasn't at home with Ian or taking care of Yev, he was at the Alibi running the Rub 'n' Tug like it was nobody's business but his own - but, of course, it was Kev's business too. But once he realized Mickey's new determination to get horny men upstairs, satisfied, and debauched out of $80 a fuck, he felt a new admiration for the kid. He knew exactly what it was that was setting a fire under Mickey's ass. He never brought it up though. He mostly avoided bringing it up for the sake of avoiding banter.

So whenever Kev was tending bar and saw Mickey talking business to potential customers like he was selling the best product in the world, Kev just smiled to himself knowingly.

Kev knew Ian was in good hands. Kev knew Ian would be okay.

After a few months of medication, Ian was stable. Not completely; he always felt off-kilter, like he was always on the brink of some sort of attack - be it depressive, anxious, manic. But he felt the most in control of himself than he has all year. He had Mickey to thank for that, and he never let the older man forget just how grateful he was.

After Ian started getting help, though, he started seeing less and less of his family. They would visit him at Mickey's, of course, but there was a bit of a fall out, what with Ian adjusting to his new meds and beginning to get comfortable in the Milkovich house, with Lip in college, Fiona taking care of the kids, Debbie dating, and Carl staying out late and fucking shit up. It just wasn't the same as before.

No spending nights watching reruns on the TV with Debbie, making fun of shitty scripts. No talking to Fiona about financial troubles. No wrestling with Lip. No teaching Carl how to properly use a hunting knife. He started to miss those things more and more the more stable he got.

So when, by the end of November, Ian started to feel like he could actually _deal_ , he started visiting the Gallagher home more and more, and in turn, they started visiting him more too. It still wasn't the same as before, but he was okay with that.

Mickey thought about all of this as he looked at Ian up and down. He thought some more, mostly to make Ian sweat because the redhead was so fucking cute when he slightly furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his feet nervously. Ian obviously really wanted to spend time with his family, in a way that he hasn't been able to in these past few months.

He thought about how much Ian deserved this. To see his family, to spend the night with all of them for once. He didn't need to think much more about it before he decided.

"You had me at Snickers," he said, smugly raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of his beer. Ian stopped fidgeting before grinning at his sweet-toothed boyfriend.

Mandy scoffed from where she was in between Ian and Mickey, breaking them out of their reverie. "Well, fuck if I'm going to be left here alone with Lana and her girl."

Mandy, of course, jumped at the chance of leaving the goddamn Milkovich house for the night. She wasn't all that thrilled when she realized Lip would be home from college because it was the end of December and the semester had ended already. _Fuck it_ , she thought. _Debbie's my girl and I'll be damned if I don't get to see my girl tonight because of some piece of shit scumbag_. She, of course, would never say so out loud. So she opted instead to bitch about Mickey's wife and her lesbian girlfriend.

"As soon as Yev hits the hay," Mandy continued, "I know they're gonna go at it and I sure as hell am not gonna be here to hear that through the walls."

She effectively distracted the boys from each other as they groaned and went to grab their coats. "Seriously, Mandy, if we don't like fucking chicks to begin with, what makes you think we wanna hear about _two_ girls going at it?" Ian shoved her teasingly as she put on her coat.

Mandy laughed, "fuck you, asshole. This is America, remember? You're free to be you, she's free to be her. I just don't wanna be here when she's, you know," she gestured with her hand and tongue, "doing the do."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Mandy!" Mickey flailed his arms before opening the front door. He huffed and hurried out into the cold Chicago air, Ian and Mandy cackling close behind.

 

* * *

 

So, here Mickey was, sitting on the Gallagher couch with Ian pressed to him, hip to hip, arm over shoulder, shy eyes glancing at shy eyes.

When he wasn't acting like a fucking teenager who was crushing for the first time, he actually watched whatever movie was on and actually enjoyed them.

Since this night was Carl and Debbie's night, they chose the movies. The older five groaned when they both decided on Disney films, but the duo quickly reassured them that they weren't talking princess type shit - they were talking Pixar films. Like _Toy Story 3_ , cry your heart out "my childhood is ruined but I still fucking love this," type Disney. Like _The Incredibles_ Disney, where it was common knowledge that you had to watch it whenever you had the chance, you know, "for the greater good." Like _Finding Nemo_ Disney because - did they really need to back that one up?

"You really think I'm gonna let her put on some fucking princess shit?" Carl scoffed from where he was laying down in front of the couch, in between Debbie and Liam, covered in blankets and pillows because even with heating they were still cold as fuck.

Debbie flung a pillow at her brother. "Oh, please, like you didn't cry yourself to sleep after watching _The Little Mermaid_ for the first time because you wanted to be a mermaid so bad. And like you didn't sing the melody of 'Part of Your World' in your sleep for weeks," Debbie retorted and was met with a swift punch on the shoulder.

"Hey, fuck off with that shit," Lip nudged Carl's bum with his foot. Lip was sprawled on the love-seat next to the couch, making sure there was no space for anyone else. Fiona and Mandy were sitting comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath thighs and blankets with plenty of space for themselves, seeing as Ian and Mickey put as little space as possible between the lovebirds. Everyone pretended not to notice their obvious closeness. But it was dark and _Toy Story 3_ was starting, the TV illuminating the crowded living room, and everyone soon forgot about everything else as they lost themselves in everyone's favorite story about a toy cowboy and his astronaut best friend.

It may have been dark, but both Ian and Mickey were very wary of each other. Ian at one point moved his arm from around Mickey's shoulder to rub his thumb up and down the back of his neck. He smirked when Mickey shot him a look before relaxing into Ian's touch, moving his hand up Ian's thigh from underneath the blanket.

Ian chuckled and shook his head, knowing full well of Mickey's impatience when it came to caressing for the sake of caressing and not as a prelude to fucking.

Mickey pouted grumpily before moving his hand underneath the blanket. He searched blindly until he found what he was looking for. He roughly grabbed Ian's hand and intertwined their fingers, shooting Ian a glare, emphasizing his dissatisfaction with a squeeze.

Ian smiled. He leaned towards Mickey and whispered, "That's better."

"Fuck you," Mickey whispered back sharply. But he didn't pull away.

 

* * *

 

They were three movies into the marathon, five bowls into their popcorn stash, and Mickey was personally setting a record for amount of bite-sized Snickers he could eat in one night before crashing from a sugar high.

 _Wall-E_ was rolling credits and Debbie got up to set up the next movie, _Up_. Ian took this time to confront Mickey about his sugar addiction.

"Mick, you need to chill with the chocolate," he leaned over Mickey's body to try to grab the bowl of Halloween candy by Mickey's feet.

"Mmmm." Mickey chewed his last Snickers while smiling teasingly at his boyfriend who had placed the bowl on the other side of the couch, in front of Mandy. Mickey defiantly shook his hoodie and the noise of wrappers revealed that he had stuffed his pockets with more Snickers. He took one out, unwrapped it, and lasciviously took a bite. He quirked one eyebrow before challenging, "make me."

Everyone else had been minding their own business until Ian lunged at Mickey, kissing him languidly, catching even Mickey by surprise. Ian smiled against his boyfriend's lip as his hand crept down from Mickey's neck, down his arm, and to his hand to retrieve the candy bar. He pulled back, emptied Mickey's pocket as his boyfriend stared wide-eyed at him, and dumped the rest of the Snickers back into the bowl.

"Gross," Debbie said as she settled again on the floor and the room darkened as the TV switched movies.

"Disgusting," Carl concurred.

That was enough to snap Mickey back to earth."Oh, fuck off with that noise. Like you ain't seen Fiona or Lip be lame as fuck either."

"Well, he's not wrong," Fiona chirped, chuckling when she caught Lip's eye.

Debbie and Carl only shrugged before turning back as the TV lit up again and _Up_ started rolling.

Ian looked at Mickey like he was the only light in the room, though. He smiled tenderly at his boyfriend because, really, that was the first time they were that intimate in front of the rest of the Gallaghers. And the fact that Mickey shrugged off the subsequent comments like it was nothing, it made Ian so happy he was sure his heart would burst out of his chest. If it were a few months back, Ian was sure it wouldn't have gone over so smoothly.

So they settled in again to watch the movie, Ian smiling as Mickey again reached for his hand.

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes passed before everyone's phone went off. Vibrations and ringtones sounded all over the room.

"What the fuck?" the oldest five of the eight grunted as they reached for their pockets. Lip, Ian, Fiona, Mickey, and Mandy looked down at their messages.

"What, what's wrong?" Debbie asked as Carl and Liam nodded in agreement. The Gallaghers could only really afford for the oldest three to have phones.

"What the fuck..." the oldest five said again, all at different times as they all got to reading the message within seconds of each other.

"What? What?" Carl urged.

"Carl, go open the blinds and look out the window," Fiona whined at her phone.

He did just that, Debbie following him up to the living room window at the front of the house.

"What the fuck..." both Debbie and Carl whispered in awe as they looked out onto the street.

There was at least four feet of snow piled onto the street as far for as the eye could see. The street lamps were flickering. The wind was blowing so hard that the trees seemed to lean at unnatural angles. Then, just as everyone turned from their phones to look up at the window - almost as if nature waited for this moment - a six foot long and at least two foot thick tree branch flew across the window and crashed right in front of the Gallagher's front door.

Everyone jumped at the noise and Fiona was up before anyone could think twice.

"Get away from the window!" she yelled at her brother and sister. They walked backwards away from the window, still staring, forgetting to pull down the blinds before the storm did its final damage.

The wind blew again so hard that everyone heard its whisper clearly. It blew again harder, and after a few seconds, everyone saw the power chords in front of the Gallagher home snap and its pillars fall with them. The power went out as soon as they saw the flash of lights from where the chords snapped.

So there they were, six Gallaghers and two Milkoviches, plunged into complete darkness, staring out at the mayhem before them.

"Fuck," they all said, this time in complete unison.


	2. Eight is Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is some fucking bullshit," Lip said simply, effectively breaking the silence and sending the rest of the party into a frenzy of words.
> 
> Mickey groaned and threw his head back dramatically, "did _nobody_ bother to check the weather?" 
> 
> "Fuck, what are we gonna do?" Fiona threw her hands on the top of her head and repeated those last five words over and over again.
> 
> "Carl, stay the fuck away from the window!" Ian got off the couch to grab Carl from behind and drag him back to the pile of blankets.
> 
> "I can't do this shit sober," Mandy muttered in the midst of the mayhem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my fucking God. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read the prologue. And a special thanks to everyone who commented and sent feedback on tumblr. I'm so glad you all like it!
> 
> As I mentioned before, all chapter titles allude to _LOTR_ and _The Hobbit_ chapter titles. "Eight is Company" refers to the third chapter of _The Fellowship of the Ring_.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was the worst snowstorm to hit Chicago in decades. The wind had knocked down the power chords in front of the Gallagher home, and now there was a six foot long tree branch blocking the exit of the house, the snow was unleashing hell outside, it was dark as fuck, not to mention bitching cold, and Ian and Mickey were stuck in a powerless house full of Gallaghers, plus Mandy.

The eight of them stayed rooted in their places, staring out the living room window in utter awe of how fucking _insane_ this storm was.

"This is some fucking bullshit," Lip said simply, effectively breaking the silence and sending the rest of the party into a frenzy of words.

Mickey groaned and threw his head back dramatically, "did _nobody_ bother to check the weather?"

"Fuck, what are we gonna do?" Fiona threw her hands on the top of her head and repeated those last five words over and over again.

"Carl, stay the fuck away from the window!" Ian got off the couch to grab Carl from behind and drag him back to the pile of blankets.

"I can't do this shit sober," Mandy muttered in the midst of the mayhem.

The power was out and all eight of them were snowed in this fucking house. _Rather be here than there_ , she added as an afterthought.

The back and forth continued on in the Gallagher living room.

Debbie was panicking over the fact that because of the storm, she'd have to cancel a date she had planned for the following day.

Ian was still holding on to a struggling Carl, who practically screamed, "Don't you see it, Ian? That shit is totally _wicked_!"

Finally, Fiona froze the chaos, "alright, everyone _shut the fuck up_!"

Everyone paused and looked to where she was standing in front of the television.

"Carl, go get some candles from one of the kitchen cabinets - you know where they are - and set up a few in the kitchen and around here," she turned to Debbie, "and you, go check to see if the water and gas are still running."

Both teens groaned in defiance. Debbie began, "but, Fiona -"

"Debbie, Carl - I swear to fucking God!" she shot them one last look. The teens chose not to try their luck and scurried around the house, the darkness probably delaying the completion of their tasks by a significant amount of time.

Ian could only laugh at Fiona's prowess with the kids. He was still standing in front of the couch from where Carl had run out of his arms.

Fiona swiftly turned to him, a hand placed firmly on her hip, "oh, you're laughing? Great, like there's nothing to worry about! Like there may not be enough food for all eight of us? Like I still haven't paid the heating bill and that shit's the next to go? Like some of us don't need to get to work to maintain this house?" Fiona all but roared.

Ian flinched at Fiona's outburst. "Fi, the power will be back in a couple of days, at most," Ian tried reassuring her.

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey joined in, still sitting on the couch, "you think the grand City of Chicago cares about this shitty street in shitty ass Canaryville in the shitty ass Southside enough to send help and fix our electricity?"

Ian only glared down at him. Mickey couldn't help but want Ian to tackle him right then on the couch.

"Dream on, Firecrotch, the power ain't comin' back in this shithole for at least a week."

Ian only continued staring, his eyes pleading, _Jesus Christ, Mickey, couldn't you at least_ try _to play along?_

Oh, he could try, but playing this little game with Ian was so much more fun.

While Ian and Mickey eye-fucked, Lip sighed and actually managed to calm down a winding Fiona.

"Fiona, it's gonna be okay. We'll ration the food out, hell, even melt the fucking snow with our body heat for water supply if it comes to it. Let's just get comfortable here, find some cards and board games, and play the night by ear." He glanced at the storm outside, "After we reinforce the shit out of that window."

"I remember there being a bunch of plywood in the hallway closet upstairs," Ian suggested, finally looking away from Mickey, who was smirking wickedly.

"Well, it looks like we've got ourselves a task, fellas." Lip stood from the love-seat and turned to Fiona, who was biting her lip anxiously. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder before rounding the couch and heading up the stairs, following Ian.

Mickey reluctantly stood up from the couch to follow the other boys. He took a step, paused, and then looked back onto the couch to Mandy. She had a lit joint between her lips and was getting herself in a very comfortable position on the couch, making use of all the new space left by Mickey, Ian, and Fiona.

"You gonna help?" Mickey raised his eyebrows.

Inhale, "nope," exhale.

Lip laughed from where he paused on the stairs to see this small encounter. Mandy glanced at Lip and quickly turned back to her joint, grateful that the darkness hid her blush.

"C'mon, Mickey, this won't take long," Lip beckoned Mickey up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

When plywood was securely adjusted on all the windows of the house, Carl had already returned with an abundance of tall candles and had illuminated the house with what would have been a warm ambiance, if it wasn't so bite-ass cold, despite the heating. Debbie had also returned to reassure everyone that the water, gas, and heating were all in working order. For now.

The night was early for the first night of vacation; only midnight. All the commotion with the storm jolted a few more hours of life in everyone but Liam - who, shortly after the power outage, calmly wrapped himself in a blanket, found a comfortable corner of the living room and quietly eased himself into sleep. When the other Gallaghers finally found him after a good five-minute panicked search, all five of them stared down at their beloved brown boy and wondered, _how the fuck was this kid a Gallagher?_ Because, damn, this kid sure had his life together even when there was snow and flying debris literally burying their world outside.

After they broke out of their _Liam Gallagher is too precious to be a Gallagher_ reverie, Lip carried him up the stairs and tucked him into bed before coming back downstairs to join a game of Uno. All six of them sat in a circle on the living room floor - Mandy, Debbie, Fiona, Ian, Mickey, and Carl, all sitting one next to the other. Lip settled down between Carl and Mandy.

"About fuckin' time," Mandy said with lungs full of THC. She held out her hand to pass the latest joint of their rotation to Lip.

He was startled by Mandy's ease around him. He didn't know what he had expected from her - definitely not for her to show up in the first place, but as more time passed, the less he thought it awkward.

He took a little bit too long to respond to Mandy's pass, so Carl thought he'd try to beat him to the punch. As soon as he moved his arm, though, Mickey smacked it hard enough that Carl recoiled.

"The fuck, Mickey?!" he hissed at his wrist.

Mickey glanced at the teen with an amused look as he dealt Uno cards.

"You get some of the good stuff," he paused to gesture at Lip inhaling from the joint, "when you pay for it."

"Did _you_ pay for it?"

Mickey finished dealing and reached over Carl to take Lip's pass. "Are you fucking kidding me? Their dealer owes _me_ for blow. Consider this," inhale, "fairly earned." Exhale.

Carl grunted. Mickey then passed the joint to Fiona, bypassing his boyfriend knowing full well Ian's sensitivity to any other drug now that he was on prescription. Ian smiled as Mickey reached over him, because, shit, Mickey sure did say a lot in the little things he did.

They played Uno for about an hour, getting lost in each other's jokes and laughs. At some point, Mickey found himself staring at Ian's wide, goofy smile, as he reached over Mickey to roughhouse with Carl. Mickey wished that smile wouldn't fade away. He wished Ian Gallagher could be this happy all the time, and if he had to deal with six other people in a house with no power to get that wish, he wouldn't mind at all.

 

* * *

 

It was nearing 2 AM when Debbie and Carl literally collapsed themselves on the pillows and blankets already strewn across on the living room floor. Fiona went upstairs to her room to go to bed. Lip awkwardly suggested that Mandy take the couch as he excused himself to his room.

Soon Mickey and Ian found themselves in the living room with three sleeping bodies around them.

They were sitting on the floor before they realized how quiet the house had become, save for the wind whispering outside.

Mickey looked at Ian. Ian looked at Mickey.

They couldn't get upstairs fast enough.

By the time Mickey reached Ian's old bedroom door, Ian had grabbed his wrist and turned him around.

"Liam's in there," he said short and quick.

"So fucking what?"

"Mick, I'm not going to fuck you with my brother in the room."

"Gallagher, if the kid slept through the shitstorm downstairs earlier, I think we're in the clear."

"Mick, I'm not going to fuck you with my brother in the room," Ian repeated, a look of obvious annoyance ghosting over his face.

Mickey grabbed Ian's shirt and pulled him flush against him, backing them up against the bedroom door.

He looked straight into Ian's eyes, despite the redhead's lip practically _screaming_ for attention. He purposely whispered against them without quite making contact, "so, where are you gonna fuck me, then?"

That set Ian off. Mickey always knew how to get Ian in the mood, the sexiest fucking mood Mickey ever felt the satisfaction of being on the receiving end of.

Ian's eyes darkened drastically and he hummed so low it sounded like a growl. Fuck, Mickey needed Ian _now_.

Without moving a centimeter, lips still without making contact, Ian whispered back, "bathroom."

Mickey shoved Ian away and headed towards their destination. Ian chuckled and thought it best to quickly get a candle from downstairs and returned to Mickey with it lit.

He set the candle on the sink before turning to Mickey, who was standing in front of closed bathroom door.

They stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other, waiting for either of them to make the first move.

Mickey raised one eyebrow and that was all it took for Ian to run across the bathroom and back him up against the door, sliding his hands underneath Mickey's shirt.

The brunette chuckled in satisfaction and shivered under Ian's cold touch.

Ian wasn't giving in to Mickey that easy, though. He trailed his fingers on Mickey's stomach, then moved his hands around his boyfriend's waist and placed his hands firmly on Mickey's back, pulling them closer together.

Ian looked straight into Mickey's eyes, despite the brunette's lips practically _begging_ for contact. He knowingly whispered against them, "so, how do you want me to fuck you?"

Mickey growled and closed the distance between their lips. Ian chuckled and leaned into the kiss happily.

The kiss was passionate. With both bodies pressed against each other, Mickey's hands on Ian's neck, Ian's hands on Mickey's back, they sighed into their others mouths before Ian decided to up the ante.

He ground against Mickey one last time, eliciting a groan from the brunette, before reaching for Mickey's zipper and getting his jeans down to Mickey's knees. He palmed Mickey through his boxers and buried his face into the shorter man's neck.

Mickey closed his eyes and moaned quietly as Ian sucked on his neck and worked his dick. He reached for Ian's pants before Ian grabbed his wrist with the hand that wasn't on his boxers.

"No," Ian said against Mickey's neck. He lifted his head to look at Mickey, "it’s way too fucking cold."

"But -" he was cut short when Ian's hand dove under Mickey's boxer and grasped his cock, making Mickey stiffen and then relax with a moan as Ian started slowly stroking.

"I want to make you come, Mickey. I want to see you come," he looked at Mickey with determination before dipping his head again into the brunette's neck. "You can thank me later if you're so intent on returning the favor," he finished with a smirk against his jaw.

Mickey stood there, completely at Ian's mercy, and brought his hands up Ian's arms as the redhead worked his cock with fervor.

He dropped his jaw without making a sound when Ian twisted his wrist expertly and stroked Mickey's dick deliciously.

"Ian..." was the only thing he could vocalize before Ian responded with a bite on his neck and another twist of his wrist. Ian pulled away from his neck and looked at Mickey, completely taken away by Mickey's debauched and flushed face.

The way Ian looked at Mickey was all it took for him to fall over the edge. He squeezed Ian's arm before reaching for his neck, pulling the redhead down to his lips and coming with a moan that Ian would never tire of drawing out of him.

Ian pulled his hand out of Mickey's boxers before finishing the kiss with a biting pull of Mickey's lower lip. Ian was breathing heavily despite Mickey being the only one who came.

They looked at each other for a few moments, their breathing and the wind making the only sounds in their world.

"C'mon, let's go to sleep," Ian whispered softly before turning to wash his hands in the sink. Mickey smiled shyly and took off his jeans; his sleeping attire always consisting of the shirt he wore the same day and boxers.

Ian, candle in hand, followed him out of the bathroom to the room where Liam was sleeping. He smiled when he realized that the Gallaghers kept his dresser and most of his clothes that were in it. He changed before turning to Mickey who had been watching Ian the entire time and was already in bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. Mickey glanced away when Ian caught him looking, and turned his body towards the wall with a grunt. God, Ian was definitely in love with a teenager who was crushing for the first time.

He stared at Mickey's back, and at the blanket that was left open in invitation, before smiling to himself, blowing out the candle, and joining Mickey in bed.

 

* * *

 

Both Ian and Mickey woke up with a start a couple of hours later. Liam was screaming and flailing violently in his sleep. Liam was having another nightmare.

Ian was out of bed and away from Mickey's side, wide awake and attending Liam within seconds.

Mickey sat up on the bed, completely clueless as to what to do, looking on while Ian shook Liam awake and lifted the boy into his arms.

"Liam, Liam, it's okay. Don't worry, I'm right here," Ian caressed the back of the crying boy. He turned to Mickey, eyes solemn and defeated, before Fiona opened the bedroom door, frantically assessing the room.

"Is he okay?" Fiona rushed up to Ian and reached for Liam, who wasn't crying anymore but sniffling against Ian's shoulder. It seemed as if he was a few seconds away from falling back asleep.

"Yeah, he is now," Ian said lowly. He looked at Fiona with distrust, but tried his damnedest to not make it obvious to his sister.

She took Liam from Ian and settled him in her arms against her shoulder. Her voice shaking, she looked at Ian and said, "I'll bring him to my room, he'll sleep better with someone else in bed with him."

It was obvious to both Ian and Mickey that Fiona, hair disheveled and eyes wide, was drowning in guilt. She always cried herself to sleep whenever Liam woke everyone in the middle of the night with his night terrors.

Ian nodded slowly, glancing at Liam who began sleeping in Fiona's arms. She looked at Ian, silently asking him to let her do this, let her take Liam away, before turning back and walking towards her room.

Ian followed her out and closed the bedroom door, sighing deeply in the quiet room and resting his forehead on the door.

"Hey," Mickey beckoned quietly from the bed. Ian turned to him, eyes glossed over. Mickey's heart wrenched at the sight.

"Come here," he beckoned again. Ian walked slowly back to the bed and settled himself in again, both boys facing each other.

Ian was looking down and away from Mickey as the other boy brought a hand up to Ian's cheek, making the redhead meet his gaze.

He ran his thumb across Ian's cheekbone and smiled, small and tender, "it's gonna to be okay," he said softly.

Ian, so soft yet so tense in this moment, looked at Mickey, before he nodded slowly. Ian closed his eyes and soon returned to his dreams as Mickey gazed at his boyfriend, thinking to himself, _Ian Gallagher is too damn precious to be a Gallagher_ , before closing his eyes and joining his redhead in sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Mickey woke up again, the sun was up and Ian was sitting up next to him on the bed.

"Yo, sleepyface, you sleep well?" Mickey joked groggily.

Ian scoffed and bit at his nails. He was seated with his knees to his chest, and it took a few seconds before Mickey realized he was shaking, and Mickey knew it was not because of the cold.

"Ian, what's wrong?" Mickey stayed lying down but his eyes were wide, and he reached out to rest his hand on Ian's forearm.

"I left my meds at your place," Ian whispered almost inaudibly.

"What?"

"I took my meds last night before coming here, but I didn't expect to be snowed the fuck in, and now I'm stuck without my meds, and who the fuck knows how long it'll be before we can get back!" Ian was shaking violently now, his voice wavering and Mickey noticed Ian begin to breathe short and unevenly.

Mickey grasped Ian's hand, which was sweaty and limp in his hold. Ian was seconds away from having an anxiety attack and Mickey'd be damned if he let Ian spiral.

He sat up and tightened his hold on Ian's hand. "Ian, it's gonna be okay. The power might be out for a while but the snow will clear up enough by tomorrow for us to get back."

Ian started shaking more violently, staring intensely at the foot of the bed, and grunted in response.

"Jesus, would you at least look at me?" Mickey said firmly, annoyed at himself for losing his temper when it was the last thing Ian needed right now.

This wasn't the first time Mickey has seen Ian have an attack. The first few weeks of medication was rough as hell, especially since Mickey had no idea how to deal with someone who was heaving, grasping for anything solid, and thinking so fast that no one else's thoughts could bring them back to sanity.

But Mickey knew Ian; knew him so well he learned to deal with it and eventually, learned how to bring Ian out of his attacks.

So he was really fucking mad that he lost his patience with Ian in that moment. But Ian turned his gaze to Mickey, letting the brunette know that he was listening. His shaking body and unsure eyes were enough to ease Mickey's temper.

"Listen," he began, "I researched that a few missed doses won't be catastrophic. You just can't let yourself get psyched like this," he finished and reached to rub Ian's back.

Ian's eyes softened and his breathing eased up a little.

Still shaking, he curled his lips slightly into a small smile and looked at his boyfriend, "you really researched that shit?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows, knowing full well what Ian was trying to get at. He softened his gaze. At this point in their relationship, there was no use trying to come off as indifferent.

"Of course I did," Mickey smiled when Ian stared at him wide-eyed. He felt Ian stop shaking under his touch.

The boys stared at each other for a good minute before Ian closed the distance between their lips. He kissed Mickey slowly, without tongue, and curled his hands around Mickey's neck as Mickey grasped Ian's wrists.

Ian kissed him as if to say, _thank you_. Thank you for everything.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly noon when Mickey and Ian joined the rest of the party downstairs. Carl and Debbie were still sleeping soundly in the living room, Fiona was showering upstairs, and Lip was trying to assess the damage done outside. Mickey and Ian noticed that the plywood was removed from the windows, seeing as the storm had passed, despite it still snowing heavily.

Lip attempted to open the front door to no avail; the branch that had fallen the night before jammed the exit real good. He furiously tried shoving the branch through the small crack, only to get more frustrated by the amount of snow coming in through it. He slammed the door shut and walked past Mickey and Ian towards the kitchen, the other two following close behind.

Lip walked through the kitchen and opened the back door, finding that even more snow had accumulated in that exit; a good six feet of it, to be exact. He grunted in frustration and huffed out, for the second time in two days, "this is some fucking bullshit."

Mandy was in the kitchen trying to figure out how the fuck they were going to ration food for eight people for who knows how long. She was staring hard and long at all the opened kitchen cupboards and cabinets. There was canned soup, pop tarts, bread, ham, some fruit and - thank fuck - two bottles of vodka in the refrigerator.

"We should probably eat the bread and ham before they go bad," Mandy commented.

"Yeah, and I call dibs on the last pop tarts," Mickey added, reaching for the box and taking a bite out of one after opening the wrapper.

Mandy scoffed and returned to assess the inventory. "Honestly, I think we're good for another day or so. We can leave the soup for tonight, have some sandwiches for breakfast and lunch, and eat the fruit as snacks. Since the gas and water are still up, we can boil tap for now."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Lip nodded. So the four of them made eight sandwiches, sliced some apples, ate their own, boiled some tap water, and took vodka shots for good measure, before spreading throughout the house to give out the rest of breakfast.

 

* * *

 

The snow persisted throughout the day and the sun set before it was even 5 PM, but the Gallaghers and Milkoviches didn't quite mind passing time together in the candle lit living room.

Liam worked on his coloring books while Mickey, Fiona, Debbie, and Carl played Parcheesi on the floor. Lip, Mandy and Ian were trading stories about their wild winter adventures. Lip was sitting on the love-seat while the other two sat on the couch, Mandy in between the two brothers.

"Yeah, and then Lip almost got busted for possession and ran away from the cops, joints flying from his coat into the fucking snow as he went," Ian was saying, "when we came back they were all soaked! I was so fucking mad."

"Yeah, well, fuck you," Lip flipped his brother off and Mandy laughed at the banter.

While Lip and Ian continued their back and forth, Mandy suddenly felt very tired. Having only a minimal amount of things to do when you're snowed in and the power's out can make you very sleepy. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head, making her shirt lift and show skin.

Lip glanced at her stomach while Ian talked on obliviously. The oldest Gallagher boy looked at Mandy's stomach, up to her, and back down. As soon as she saw a look in his eyes, a look she couldn't for the hell of her decipher, she quickly brought her arms back down to cover her badly bruised stomach, marks left by her boyfriend who she hoped was freezing to death somewhere in Chicago.

Lip opened his mouth as if to address Mandy's marks, before Carl interrupted his Parcheesi game and Ian's rant about that time they jumped off the roof into the backyard when it had snowed six feet one winter, "hey, guys! Look!"

Carl stood up and looked out onto the street outside the window, where large trucks were driving down the block, clearing the snow.

"By tomorrow, maybe we'll be able to go out and play!" Carl may have been thirteen but he would never really grow too old to play in the snow.

Liam cheered in agreement.

Lip scoffed, "yeah, if we can get that piece of shit tree branch in front of our door out of way."

"Let's deal with that when we get there," Fiona added, "you know, play the night by ear?" She smiled at her brother, who chuckled back.

Fiona cooked soup and rationed it between all eight of them. Carl and Ian complained about how soup wasn't enough to tame their "inner men."

"Do you see how tall I am, Fiona? No way in hell that soup can satisfy me," Ian whined.

"Stop bitching and maybe we can figure out what can satisfy you later," Mickey whispered in Ian's ear, effectively stopping the redhead's complaining.

They spent a few more hours playing games, talking, taking shots, and smoking the leftover weed before they all went to bed, everyone sleeping exactly where they had the night before, except Liam stayed with Fiona this time around.

Ian went to sleep that night with the same smile that Mickey saw from the night of the storm. He might have to find out a way to keep the power out forever if it meant Ian's smile can stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's times like these I'm glad that I've lived through enough NYC winters to know what the deal is when the power goes out. Fun fact: My brothers and I actually jumped off our roof one winter when it had snowed five feet! We also threw our dogs out the window. Don't look at me like that, they fucking loved it.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> -[r](http://girlplatano.tumblr.com)


	3. Queer Lodgings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Guys, c'mon, stop acting like fucking children," Ian sighed and ran his hand over his face from where he was standing behind the couch. 
> 
> "I'm not a fucking child!" Debbie screamed as she swatted Carl with excellent precision square in the face. 
> 
> "Yeah, you're sure proving me wrong with how you're going at each other." 
> 
> Debbie and Carl ignored his comment and continued tugging, pushing, and smacking at each other on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's read this far! Since when has writing been this fun? School definitely made me forget how fun it can be.
> 
> "Queer Lodgings" is the title of the seventh chapter of _The Hobbit_. I swear, it's almost as if Tolkien _knew_ that I was going to write this fic eighty years later; the titles just work too perfectly. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions and depictions of mental illness, blood, and domestic violence (I'm sorry).
> 
> Enjoy!

When Mickey woke up the next day, he was happy to see Ian sleeping soundly by his side. He thought back to the day before when Ian had been shaking with anxiety underneath his touch. Mickey suddenly felt something invisible and heavy press down on his chest.

But in that moment, Ian was there, completely lost in sleep. Mouth wide open and faced towards the brunette; he looked so blissful and safe. There was drool crusted on the corner of his mouth and his morning breathe was gnarly but not bad enough to make Mickey look away. All Mickey could think was, _he's okay, he's okay, he's okay_ , over and over again. He made sure he was unaware of just about everything else in that moment, except Ian.

He looked at his redhead for a few more minutes, before Ian stirred. He opened his eyes lazily and found a shy Mickey staring at him. Mickey didn't even bother to look away.

Ian blinked for a few seconds, still drifting back into consciousness before realizing how Mickey was looking at him.

"Hey," he said in a low voice, worried that if he spoke too loudly it would break this tender moment between them.

"Hey," Mickey responded just as softly.

Ian loved this so much; his mind was racing and still at the same time. He was overwhelmed with what he felt for Mickey, how much he loved Mickey, and all the while he felt the sweetest calm wash over him. It was an otherworldly feeling. It was fucking beautiful.

The moment was cut short when both boys realized how much Ian was shaking - this time, definitely because of the cold.

"Fuck," Ian hissed, "it's fucking _cold_!"

Mickey then noticed how much he was shaking too, the blankets and Ian's body pressed to his doing absolutely nothing to chase away his goose bumps and the shiver running down his spine.

"Looks like Fiona's late payment is catching up to us," Mickey laughed out as he sat up and climbed over Ian and out of bed. He hastily put his jeans on, searched Ian's drawer for socks and proceeded to put on two pairs when he found some. Ian contently sat up and swung his legs over the bed and placed them on the floor. He stretched out his limbs and breathed deeply before standing up and reaching for Mickey's arm.

Mickey had already put on his boots, sweater, and coat when Ian grabbed his wrist. He turned to Ian expectantly, who was still in boxers and a red long-sleeved shirt.

Ian pulled Mickey toward him and wrapped an arm around him, through his unzipped coat and sweater, placing his hand on the small of Mickey's back, over his shirt. He placed his other cold hand on Mickey's neck, causing the shorter man to jump at the contact.

Ian chuckled lowly as his brunette eased into his touch, staring back at Ian in the way he had been just two minutes ago. Mickey was sure he would never not look at Ian that way, and Ian wished with everything he had that he wouldn't. That look evoked too many emotions in Ian; it was a high he never wanted to come down from.

They remained silent for a short while, basking in this quiet moment that said so much, before Ian brought his head down to kiss Mickey.

They didn't noticed how many minutes had passed as they brushed their lips together, slow and relaxed, like they had all the time in the world.

Ian was the one to pull back though, suddenly coming to when the cold crept up his spine, causing him to jerk with the shivers.

Mickey laughed and pulled himself away from a poorly clad Ian.

"Throw some clothes on so we can join Part Three of this goddamn nightmare of a sleepover," he said as he walked out of the room and down the stairs, smiling like a fucking dork.

Ian watched Mickey walk away, smiling just as wide it was borderline pathetic. While it may have been cold as hell and they could have been better fed, Ian saw Mickey turn before heading down the stairs with a look that said, _this isn't a nightmare. This isn't a nightmare at all._

 

* * *

 

When Ian joined everyone downstairs, he found himself in the middle of yet another storm. He took one last step down the stairs into the living room at the exact moment Carl started yelling like he was in a fucking war zone, charging from the kitchen, into the living room and around the couch to tackle Debbie, who had been standing with three blankets around her shoulders, to the ground.

"Carl, what the _fuck_?!" Debbie screeched in response as she rolled around on the floor trying to get her brother off of her.

"I get up for two fucking seconds to get water and I see you taking my blanket!" He tugged at the topmost blanket wrapped around Debbie's shoulders as he lay on top of her, struggling to get it back.

"So you tackle me to the ground without even asking nicely for it back?!" Debbie had her hands directly on Carl's face, pushing him back as he blindly tried to pull the blanket.

"Jesus, Carl, get a fucking grip!" Debbie was full-on wrestling her younger brother now. She kneed him in the stomach causing him to grunt and fall to Debbie's side. When he came to, he doubled his efforts to wrestle Debbie for his blanket. He jumped at her and pulled hard on the blanket, causing his sister to roll on the floor so fast and hard that she banged her head on the foot of the couch. She yelled in pain, and Ian finally caught up with what was happening.

Debbie turned to Carl, who was standing triumphantly with blanket in hand, before suddenly grabbing the blanket and pulling hard, causing Carl to yelp as he fell on top of her again. They continued wrestling like they had all the stamina in the world.

"Guys, c'mon, stop acting like fucking children," Ian sighed and ran his hand over his face from where he was standing behind the couch.

"I'm not a fucking child!" Debbie screamed as she swatted Carl with excellent precision square in the face.

"Yeah, you're sure proving me wrong with how you're going at each other."

Debbie and Carl ignored his comment and continued tugging, pushing, and smacking at each other on the floor.

"All right, that's it - don't say you didn't ask for it!" Ian jumped over the couch and grabbed the back of Carl's sweater to pull him off Debbie. Carl flailed his arms as Ian lifted him into the air. Ian was surprised with how much his brother has grown since he moved in with Mickey.

"Well, guess what? We didn't fucking ask for it!" Carl said as soon as he planted his feet. He turned swiftly, grabbing the arm that was still gripped to his sweater, and rounded Ian with all his strength so that Ian hit the floor with so much force the breath was knocked right out of him.

Carl stood above both above and between his two siblings. He then shot a look at Debbie, who seemed to understand completely what he was thinking, before they both turned to Ian with wicked smirks.

 _Fuck_ , was all Ian could think before his younger brother and sister pounced on him, tickling the hell out of the redhead until Ian was writhing and swinging his arms trying to get them to back off.

The three of them laughed maniacally, rolling back and forth on the floor before Debbie and Carl finally pulled back and sat against the couch on the floor. The three of them panted heavily as the giggles subsided.

Ian lay on the floor staring at his brother and sister with absolute wonder and appreciation that no matter how old they got, they'd still be the little shits that tackled each other over blankets.

Debbie let out one last laugh before grabbing one of the blankets off the floor and passing it to Carl without a word.

Ian huffed incredulously at how easily Debbie returned the blanket after all that commotion. He sat up and said, "now, was that so hard? Did you really have to tackle each other over that?"

Debbie and Carl looked at him like he was an utter idiot. "Yes," the teens said in unison, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ian laughed one last time before Mickey, Fiona, and Liam walked into the living room.

"You guys are something else, you know that?" Fiona was smiling wildly, having seen the entire encounter from the kitchen. She felt the same gratefulness that Ian felt earlier about their younger siblings never really growing up.

"Whatever. What do you got for us?" Carl gestured to the plates that Fiona and Mickey had in their hands.

"Ham sandwiches and apple slices. Don't get too excited now; I know you guys can't get enough of this shit," Mickey joked as he and Fiona passed plates to Ian, Debbie, and Carl.

While the six of them ate their food in the living room, Lip and Mandy were clearing up the kitchen from when they had all made breakfast.

Lip was laughing at how idiotic his siblings were, before he walked towards the sink to start washing the dishes that Mandy had put there.

He mulled things over before addressing Mandy, "I'm sorry you're stuck in this shithole with us. It must be driving you up a wall; I know it definitely is for me."

Mandy shot him a small smile and responded, "it's not that bad. Besides, there are a handful of people I'd rather not be snowed in with. I think I lucked out with the seven of you."

Lip didn't miss the solemn undertones of Mandy's comment. But before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, "That Kenyatta still with you?"

Mandy stiffened from where she had opened the refrigerator to put away the bread. She closed the door and turned to Lip, who had paused washing the dishes and was looking over his shoulder at Mandy with wary eyes.

She thought carefully about what she was going to say next. She didn't know if she wanted to tell Lip everything, about how scared she was all the fucking time. About how, even in that moment, she was shaking with cold and fear because her phone had died and Kenyatta was probably texting her like mad at that very moment. About how she hardly spoke anymore because she didn't know if it would be responded to by a comment or a punch. About how, worst of all, she couldn't and didn't know how to get away from her abuser.

She didn't know what she wanted to tell Lip, so she opted for the tersest answer she could muster, "yeah."

Lip softened his gaze, frustrating Mandy because she, again, couldn't figure out what the fuck this kid was thinking. He finally noticed how uncomfortable he had made her by bringing up Kenyatta, so he quickly turned back to the dishes without saying a word.

Mandy, too, couldn't find any more words to tell Lip. So she turned away from him and joined the other six in the living room, grateful that the conversation in the kitchen was over.

Lip mentally cursed himself out before drying his hands and joining the rest of them.

It was late in the afternoon when everyone suddenly got very hot under all the blankets. They looked up towards the window and noticed that the sun was shining brightly and directly into the living room, its warmth spreading all over them.

"Holy shit, that feels so good," Mickey moaned as he felt sweat begin to accumulate on his forehead.

"Yeah," Ian agreed as he slumped on the couch, resting his head on Mickey's shoulder.

"Hold on a second." Carl struggled getting all the blankets off of him before standing up and walking towards the front door. He grasped the doorknob, glanced hopefully at the rest of the party, and turned the knob. The door swung open with ease.

All eight of them gasped at the sudden burst of cold, but also at the fact that they weren't fucking _stuck_ anymore.

"What the fuck?! I try all fucking day yesterday to open that shit and today it swings open to your touch like open, sesame?!" Lip was out of his seat and behind Carl within seconds.

"This is some fucking bullshit," Lip says for the third time since the storm.

The branch was still in front of the door, but the snow had melted enough that it was easy to push it out of the way. Carl zipped up his coat and ran out into the front yard, trudging through the snow giggling like a maniac.

The rest of the party cheered at their newfound freedom before joining him.

Ian and Mickey were the last to exit the house, but Mickey had been thinking since he woke up that morning that as soon as they could open that front door, they were going back to the Milkovich house to get Ian's meds. He thought about this as he grabbed Ian's arm from behind. Ian turned to him questioningly.

"Let's go back; get your meds," he said as casually as he could.

Ian's face instantly faltered as he remembered that, _right, I have a routine I must follow even if it means I had to miss a snowball fight with my family._ But he thought it best to nod, because Mickey didn't spend hours at the Alibi pimping like nobody's business just for Ian to skip the doses that Mickey earned for him.

Mickey smiled knowingly at Ian before tugging his arm, silently asking his redhead to follow his lead.

 

* * *

 

Once they arrived, they realized that the storm had done the same damage to the Milkovich house as it had to the Gallaghers'. After Ian and Mickey shoveled their way to the doorknob with their hands, they entered the house and immediately noticed that the power was out and that it was just as cold inside as it was outside.

The next thing they noticed was the sound of Yevgeny's cries from Svetlana's room. Mickey sighed as he nudged Ian's shoulder, gestured to the bathroom and simply said, "go."

Ian nodded and went to take his medication as Mickey joined Svetlana and her girlfriend, Nika, who were both attending Yev.

"He okay?" Mickey said as he approached his son who was in his wife's arms.

"Yes," Svetlana snapped, "your son is fine. Not crying from how cold it is. Thank you for being here to help take care of him while we starve and freeze to death." The bite in her voice was almost as harsh as the bite of the cold wind outside. Her attitude with Mickey didn't extend to Yev, of course, as she cooed and rocked back and forth in order to calm Yev's sobs.

Okay, Mickey was sure there was plenty of food in the cabinets and refrigerator to last two people and a baby two days, but that didn't mean he didn't understand where Lana was coming from. There were many times Mickey had to take care of Yev for an extended amount of time, and none of those times were anything less than exhausting.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't expect to be snowed in at the fuckin' Gallaghers' for days," he tried. Svetlana continued staring daggers into Mickey, utterly unimpressed by his excuses.

"Alright," he shrugged in resignation and retrieved his wallet from his coat pocket. He took out a couple of bills and extended his arm to Svetlana, who looked at the money in his hand with distrust.

"Jesus, Lana, just take the money and get some food, will ya? Business is probably back up by now since the roads are clear. Take a walk, get rid of your cabin fever with Nika, leave Yev to me."

She continued staring at his hand silently.

"Just," he sighed in frustration and jerked his lifted arm, "get whatever you need for the baby and do what you want with whatever is left over."

After a few more moments of contemplation, she decided she really did need to get the fuck out of the house. So she traded Yev for the grocery money and left with Nika a few minutes later.

When they left, Mickey noticed that Yev had stopped crying as soon as he settled in Mickey's arm. In fact, by the time Lana left the house, his son was sleeping soundly against his shoulder, already drooling all over his shirt. Mickey couldn't help but smile at that.

He entered the living room where Ian was seated quietly, doing nothing but staring at the ashtray in the middle of the dining table. Mickey placed Yev in the crib by the couch and tucked him in before heading to the kitchen.

"Yo, you good?" Mickey asked as he went for the refrigerator to take out two beers for him and Ian. Mickey knew that a few sips of beer wouldn't mess with Ian's meds, so he opened their bottles and walked towards Ian from the kitchen.

"Hmm?" Ian broke out of his trance and looked up at Mickey, who was now handing him the beer. He took it idly without noticing how much his hands were shaking from taking the meds. He placed the beer bottle on the table, and then started staring at that.

Mickey noticed Ian's zoned out state and decided to not break him out of it. He instead decided to set up candles since the sun had set and clear out the refrigerator from all the food that had gone bad since the power outage. He was just chucking the milk and eggs when he heard the front door open. Who entered the threshold a second later was not Svetlana, nor Nika.

It was Kenyatta.

Mickey immediately stopped everything he was doing and stared at the tall brown man that stood in front of the couch as if he fucking owned the ground he stood on. Ian had also turned around and stiffened as well, unable to form any words in the midst of the haze his meds left him in.

"Where's Mandy?" was the only thing Kenyatta thought appropriate to say.

"Don't know," Mickey responded firmly.

"Been texting her ever since the storm. Wanna make sure she's doing ok, you know?"

 _Like hell I fucking know_ , Mickey almost gritted out through his teeth. As if Kenyatta wasn't drafting a million "reasons" in his head as to why he was going to swing at her next, from purposefully ignoring his texts, to using the storm as an excuse to get away him. Point was, as soon as Kenyatta sets eyes on Mandy, Mickey knew she was in for it.

"Just," Kenyatta lifted his hands and backed away slowly towards the door, "let her know I'm looking for her."

The man turned and exited the house.

Neither Mickey nor Ian realized that Ian had, at some point, stood up with the beer bottle gripped so tightly that his left hand was so white it was almost turning purple.

They stood for a few seconds, both boys overwhelmed with anger, guilt, and frustration. After a few more seconds of that, Ian snapped.

He turned away from the front door and slammed his left hand against the kitchen wall; crushing the beer bottle on impact and making glass and beer scatter everywhere. He kept his hand pressed against the wall as blood started dripping down the wall and down his arm. He breathed heavily as he closed his eyes and brought his head down to his chest, trying his best to keep his shit together.

Mickey was so startled by Ian's outburst that he yelled out before he could think twice, "Ian, what the fuck?!"

Ian kept his head down but immediately lifted his other hand in response, as if to say, _please, don't._

Mickey knew it was best that he let Ian breathe it out. So when he really just wanted to hold Ian and breathe with him, he instead went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He returned to Ian, who was standing in the exact same position as before; blood, beer, and glass scattered all around him.

Mickey tentatively placed his hand on Ian's shoulder. Ian didn't move an inch.

"Ian, let me do this," Mickey pleaded. Ian slowly opened his eyes and faced Mickey. His lips were in a tight line and his breath was shallow. It seemed as though he was looking straight past Mickey, like he wasn't in the room at all.

Mickey led him to the sink to rinse the wound, and then led him to the table where they both sat down, Mickey sitting on Ian’s left side. Mickey tended Ian's wounded hand silently for about ten minutes, Ian never once wincing at the pain in his hand. But Mickey knew it was painful, it was hard to look at the wound and _not_ think it so. He knew Ian was too wrapped up in his mind to pay much notice to his hand.

"It's been, like, eight months, you know?" Ian whispered finally. He sounded defeated as he brought his head down and relaxed his arm in Mickey's hand.

Mickey had no idea what Ian was referring to. A lot of things happened eight months ago, and the months following that. Shit, if you asked Mickey, he'd say the past year felt a decade long. So Mickey just looked at Ian as he gently swabbed the wounded hand with a disinfectant wipe, and asked, "eight months since what?"

"She's been seeing him for eight months. Eight months we've let this shit happen," Ian's chin was almost resting on his sternum now. Ian was completely drowned in shame when he whispered one last time, "eight fucking months."

That echoed in both of their heads for a while: _eight months, eight months, eight months._

Mickey couldn't deal with the guilt that slowly overwhelmed him in that moment. He couldn't speak because he knew that once he did, he wouldn't be able to suppress the choking sobs that were creeping up his throat.

Kenyatta never hurt Mandy in front of the boys, Yev, Svetlana or Nika. But whenever they saw the marks and bruises on her face, Ian and Mickey would plead with Mandy to get rid of him. They never directly confronted Kenyatta about it, too scared to have a repeat with the knife-to-the-throat incident that almost ended in Ian killing Kenyatta in that very same Milkovich kitchen seven months prior. It was such a delicate situation that none of them had any idea how to confront without it leading to worse damage than had already been inflicted. It was a delicate situation that lasted eight months too long.

"I just - I know we've been so wrapped up in just about everything else, but I can't help but I feel like we've let her down," Ian continued weakly, "like there's so much we could've done but didn't."

Mickey really had no idea what to say. Because while Ian has been experiencing Mandy go through this abuse for eight months, Mickey has been experiencing it her entire life. And until that moment, he didn't know what he could do about it, because every possible course of action scared the living shit out of him.

Mickey chewed himself up inside, feeling so cowardly he still couldn't find the strength to respond to Ian. He finished bandaging Ian's hand before softly holding it, intertwining their fingers in the process.

Mickey's thoughts started drifting back to how he first met Ian. It was because of Mandy. Well, because Mandy had accused Ian of assaulting her, which really isn't a pretty way to start a relationship. But he remembered how ready he was to bust skulls, like it was instinctive, like it was second nature. Why wasn't he like that anymore?

Yeah, four years have passed and things changed but some things should to stay the same, like family loyalty. Like Mickey's loyalty to Mandy, which he always thought stayed strong but after reflecting over these past months it seemed like he didn't have Mandy's back at all.

He didn't know if what he's been doing these past eight months was wrong, or right, or justified, or excusable. He just knew he had to be at Mandy's side and try his best to keep her from falling. He had to protect her like she had protected Ian, and Mickey by proxy, when Terry had a gun to his head.

"We won't let it happen again; if we have to change the locks and bolt the windows shut and escort Mandy everywhere for however long. We can't let it happen again," Mickey found himself saying, sure and stern. Ian lifted his head and looked at Mickey uncertainly.

Then, after he looked long enough into Mickey's unrelenting eyes, he understood. That was it, that was all. In that moment, in the candle lit house of Milkovich, they both banded together promised each other and themselves, and Mandy most of all, to _never let it happen again_.

 

* * *

 

Svetlana returned in a mood ten times brighter than the mood she had when Mickey first arrived with Ian. He supposed the walk really did alleviate her cabin fever. While Ian sat on the couch admiring Yevgeny over the crib, Mickey quietly walked to Svetlana's room to check up on her.

"So, uh," he scratched his forehead, "you got everything you need?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"Good. So Yev's asleep and I was thinking -"

"To go back to Orange Boy's home, no?"

Mickey just gaped at her, though still relieved that she took the burden of asking off of him.

"Go. Yev is asleep. And I could use a quiet house tonight with Nika."

Mickey didn't even want to reply to that, for the sake of sparing his imagination the vivid details. So he instead shrugged and returned to Ian's side.

"Hi," Ian chirped when Mickey joined him, still obviously exhausted from the earlier incident but feeling like a weight has been lifted off of him.

"Let's go back," Mickey smiled wide and slapped Ian's thigh in excitement.

Ian stared at Mickey in confusion before he broke out in a huge grin.

"Is Mickey Milkovich _voluntarily_ suggesting that we go to the Gallagher home? Does Mickey Milkovich miss his in-laws?" Ian teased cutely.

Mickey smacked the back of his head, "fuck you very fucking much."

Truth was, he really did want to go see the Gallaghers. But mostly, he wanted Ian's real smile to come back. Because since they stepped foot in the Milkovich home a few hours earlier, Ian's smile has been bleak and unconvincing. Mickey knew the only way to get it back was to bring him back to his family. So he did.

 

* * *

 

Fiona, Lip, Debbie and Carl were all in the Gallagher kitchen while Mandy played with Liam in the living room.

It was Debbie who said what they were all thinking since Ian left with Mickey a few hours earlier.

"Ian looks really happy," she said.

Everyone paused from their activities and looked at her. She shrugged, "I miss him; don't really get to know how he's doing as often as I'd like, you know?"

Carl remained mum and continued playing with his switch knife at the table. Lip and Fiona just kept staring at their little sister, who was leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Fiona said finally.

A few moments passed before Fiona spoke again from where she stood next to Debbie, "you think we made the right decision?"

Fiona was always the one to ask the question that everyone was thinking out loud. She'd been asking that very same question since leaving the Milkovich house six months earlier after Mickey had adamantly rejected her idea of getting Ian help. Even after Mickey had gotten Ian help, none of them really knew if Ian was okay; if he wasn't having panic attacks or suicidal thoughts or manic episodes while the rest of them lived their own lives.

She always asked the question but no one ever gave her a straight answer.

The silence broke when the front door opened, revealing a grinning Ian and a flushed Mickey. The brunette had snow all over his face and coat; an obvious sign that Ian had tackled him into the snow or thrown a snowball in his face.

Liam screeched at the sight of his older brother and jumped out of Mandy's arms to run to Ian. Ian yelped at the force of which Liam ran into him, and looked at Mickey as he laughed and lifted Liam into his arms.

Mickey smiled tenderly at his boyfriend who was babbling on to his brother. He looked around to read the room, finding Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Carl looking at the three of them with small smiles on their faces.

Lip looked from Ian to Fiona and finally answered her question, after all these months.

"Honestly?" he stood and started walking towards the living room, "I think we did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My older brother and I are literally Carl and Debbie.
> 
> -[r](http://girlplatano.tumblr.com)


	4. The Scouring of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian hated scaring Mickey like that. Most of all, he hated that he scared Mickey without even trying anymore. He hated how some of the things he said or did came with the question, is this Ian or his disorder talking?
> 
> He thought back to all their ugly spats that always stemmed from that fear. As Mickey lay on top of him, Ian knew the brunette was really asking, _do you hate me for being this scared for you? Can you forgive me for trying to protect you like I do?_
> 
> And here came Ian's pride again, rushing quickly through his mind as he cursed himself because, _fuck, I shouldn't need protecting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gents, and everyone in between, we've passed the halfway mark! This fic has taken over my life these past five days and I fucking love it. Gallavich is going to run my life into the ground and, you know what? I'm gonna let it.
> 
> “The Scouring of the Past” refers to the eighteenth chapter of _The Return of the King_.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions and depictions of domestic abuse.
> 
> Enjoy!

The power and heating were still out when Ian and Mickey awoke for the third day in a row at the Gallagher house. They had spent the previous night playing more card games and finally finishing the first bottle of vodka in the refrigerator. And Mickey was right, with the streets cleared of the snow, most businesses were back up which allowed Fiona and Lip to buy groceries while the rest of the party passed the time at the house.

The storm had done serious damage on a ton of businesses anyway. The L was shut down indefinitely, which meant Fiona still couldn't get to work. The Rub 'n' Tug, too, was going slow since the storm, according to Kev who had visited for a few hours the night prior with Vee and their twins, so Mickey decided to spend a few more days with Ian and his family, at least until the power came back.

God, did he wish that it wouldn't.

Despite Mickey's wish, it was still boring as all hell to play the same three card and board games for hours on end. At least they were better fed.

Mickey didn't forget to take Ian's meds with them either when the two of them returned to the Gallagher house the day before. He made a mental note to make sure Ian had his meds in both homes from now on. He didn't want a repeat of the first day they woke up together; Ian nearly losing it because he had missed his dose. He wanted Ian to be safe no matter where he was - be it at the Gallagher house (Mickey's heart clenched at the thought of Ian leaving his home) or at Mickey's.

After the boys woke up for the third day in a row at the Gallagher house, Ian wordlessly left the bedroom to take his meds and change the bandage on his left hand in the bathroom. They each then doubled up on socks, wore two sweaters underneath their coats, and made sure they were securely bundled and warm before heading downstairs to join Part Four of this epic sleepover.

They spent the morning and early afternoon the same way they had the previous two days, playing games, killing the vodka, and trading stories.

The eight of them were in the middle of a game of Egyptian Ratscrew, which Carl loved because he could smack the shit out of everyone's hands, before the mischievous teen tossed his cards into the pile and scattered everything so that the game was effectively ruined.

"Carl, what the fuck?!" Debbie said for the second consecutive day.

"We've played this game five times in a row; I'm fucking bored."

"Join the club, you're about three days too late," Mandy muttered sarcastically.

Carl huffed and stood up, looking down at the rest of the party who were covered in copious amounts of blankets and snuggled closely in a circle of warmth.

"Let's go outside and play!"

Fiona groaned, "Carl, didn't you get enough of that yesterday? Your clothes are still drying from when you made Debbie and Liam literally bury you yesterday."

"Okay," Carl scoffed, "first of all, who the fuck gets tired of playing in the snow?"

Fiona, Lip, and Mandy raised their hands together unashamedly.

"Second of all, fuck the three of you. Third of all, Ian and Mickey weren't here yesterday when we played! C'mon, let's do it, please," he pleaded, "for the sake of not missing out. Please?"

Carl smiled wide and hopefully as all of them looked to Ian and Mickey, who looked at each other unsurely.

Finally, Mickey shrugged, "I guess I kinda feel bad for missing out on yesterday's fun, huh?"

Ian nodded in agreement, "Yeah, me too."

Carl cheered and went to open the front door.

Ian stayed seated on the floor for a few seconds before lighting up with what he thought was a brilliant idea.

"Hold up a sec, Carl," he stood up and made his way to the kitchen as the rest of the party stared at his back, completely clueless as to what Ian was up to.

Ian opened the back door to find that the snow had melted a few feet; it reached up to Ian's hips. He smiled and reached for the shovel that was buried next to the door and started to shovel the snow on the staircase. After a few minutes of that, there was a small walkway that led to the banister at the top of the staircase. The staircase descended to the right and the banister faced the backyard piled with five feet of untouched snow. The sun was setting, but the air was warmer than the previous days, and the light cast by the sunset reflected gorgeously on the snow below. Ian grinned wildly as his upper body leaned so far out that he was almost hanging from the banister.

"The fuck you getting at, Ian?" said Mickey who was now standing underneath the kitchen threshold with arms crossed and the rest of the family standing in front of him.

"This," Ian turned with his grin still intact and started walking towards them in excitement. Then, when he felt like he had enough distance, he turned suddenly and sprinted directly towards the banister. Once he reached it, he spread his arms above his head and jumped as if he was diving into a pool.

The other seven of them literally gasped as soon as they saw Ian catch air. And Mickey almost lost it once Ian went out of view.

"Fuck, Ian!" Mickey was the first to get to the staircase, but found that he couldn't really use any of the steps because they still had so much snow on them.

He started glancing around desperately trying to assess how he was going to get downstairs, before he heard cackling from below.

"Did I scare you there, Mick?" Ian's head popped up from where he had hit the snow. His smile was so childish and goofy, Mickey would have wanted to snuggle the shit out of him (he'd never admit this, of course) if he wasn't so fucking _scared_.

Ian quirked one eyebrows before he got a real look at Mickey's face. He only caught it for half a second, but it was long enough for him to feel a pang of guilt as he realized that, yes, he really did scare Mickey.

He caught himself before Ian could really think too much about it, though. Mickey softened his furrowed eyebrows and turned up the corner of his lips so that now he was smiling fondly at his dork of a boyfriend. He shook his thoughts because, really, he did kind of overreact to Ian's dive. Ian had mentioned so many times before how the Gallaghers would jump off roofs into piles of snow when they were younger.

But Mickey had long been shaken out of going along with Ian's spontaneity since the redhead moved in with him. Mickey was cautious now, always on his toes, always observant of Ian's actions, making sure that none of them insinuated harmful thought.

While Mickey's protectiveness over Ian did help keep the redhead on track, and Ian soon came to appreciate Mickey's new way of showing affection, it also came at a price. Whenever Ian made a sudden decision or suggestion, like when he asked Mickey to come with him to their old makeshift training course behind one of the abandoned buildings they used to frequent, Mickey would immediately question his motives. Why would Ian want to go back to that? He had ruined any chance of becoming an officer when stole Lip's identity to join the army nearly a year ago.

Truth was, Ian just wanted to go back to remind himself how much he loved the physical activity. He missed how it felt to be strong and young. He missed how Mickey would stare at him wantonly while Ian held a gun over his head and skipped from the inside of a tire to another.

So there were misunderstandings. Mickey wouldn't understand why the hell Ian would want to do something, and Ian wouldn't understand why Mickey would never let him go. These were the times they had their worst fights.

This time, though, Mickey figured he'd fight Ian with snow, and without the angst. Before he could join Ian and dive, though, he heard a yell of triumph from behind him. He then turned to find a thirteen year old child running straight past him, and diving into the backyard to join Ian, yelling the entire time.

Debbie, Lip, Mandy and Mickey doubled over laughing when Carl belly flopped right into the snow. The four of them joined them quickly after, leaving Fiona to stare down at them with a wide smile and sparkling eyes with the youngest Gallagher. Even though Liam pleaded with her, she didn't feel save letting the kid jump a storey off the side of a staircase. So she instead took a shovel from the corner of the banister from where Ian had left it and started clearing the steps, allowing Liam to join his siblings after a few minutes of clearance.

Liam jumped on Carl's back, causing his older brother to yelp, before Debbie tackled both of them into the snow, laughing like they were having the time of their lives. Lip and Mandy ganged up on Fiona (the past three days did nothing if not make the two girls warm up to each other after all these years of animosity), who screeched when they shoved snow underneath her coat at the neck.

While the other six battled to what seemed like their deaths for those who didn't know better, Ian and Mickey were having their own brand of fun in the snow.

Ian gave a loud laugh as Mickey palmed at his own face, shaking off the snow that Ian had shoved in it earlier. Mickey finally opened his eyes and looked so tiny and angry and so fucking cute Ian couldn't help but lose himself at Mickey's annoyed but challenged expression as the brunette kneeled down to fist a snowball in each hand.

Before Ian realized, Mickey had flung both snowballs at Ian, one hitting square in the face and the other on the back of his neck when Ian turned to tend his burning face.

Ian and Mickey laughed at each other's reddening faces before Ian huffed out breathily, "I fucking hate you, you know that?"

Mickey gave one last chuckle before he closed the distance between them and tackled the redhead into the snow. Water that had melted from the snow was now dripping from Mickey's coat and hair onto Ian's bare neck and face, but Ian didn't care for how cold the water felt against his skin.

"Do you?" Mickey laughed out. His eyelids seem to droop down slightly as he began to look at Ian warmly, “do you, really?" His breath slowed as did Ian's.

It was almost unfathomable to Ian how well he knew Mickey. How, in that shivering moment in the snow, Ian knew what Mickey was really asking.

Ian reached to push away Mickey's damp hair and rested his bare, cold hand against Mickey's cheek, thinking back to the brief moment when he saw Mickey's frightened face after Ian had dived into the snow. He hated scaring Mickey like that. Most of all, he hated that he scared Mickey without even trying anymore. He hated how some of the things he said or did came with the question, is this Ian or his disorder talking?

He thought back to all their ugly spats that always stemmed from that fear. As Mickey lay on top of him, Ian knew the brunette was really asking, _do you hate me for being this scared for you? Can you forgive me for trying to protect you like I do?_

And here came Ian's pride again, rushing quickly through his mind as he cursed himself because, _fuck, I shouldn't need protecting._

But Ian could never hate Mickey. And soon his pride died down as thankfulness washed over him, thankfulness that it was Mickey who was protecting him. He wouldn't let anyone else have that responsibility but Mickey.

Can Ian forgive Mickey for trying to protect him like he does? There's nothing to forgive; because protecting someone you love is nothing to be sorry for.

He wished he could find the right words to tell all of that to Mickey. So he instead pulled Mickey's head down to meet his lips.

God, they could be ten degrees below freezing and still find enough heat on each other's lips.

Ian had both his hands in Mickey's damp hair while the older man pressed down on Ian's chest over his coat, almost inaudibly moaning as Ian dragged out their kiss passionately. Ian nipped at Mickey's bottom lip before the brunette tilted his head and brushed Ian's tongue with his own.

Ian desperately reached for Mickey in this moment, his lips silently speaking against Mickey's, _it's okay, Mick. I'm scared too._

Eyes closed and lips brushing, they both decided facing their fears together was not as terrifying as facing them alone.

Mickey finally pulled back after a minute, breath foggy and face flushed, before he was met with another snowball to the face. This time, it wasn't Ian who threw it.

Mickey turned his head fast to catch the culprit, but not before the culprit's partner-in-crime threw another snowball, this time hitting Ian's neck, causing him to jerk and push Mickey off.

Both boys stood side by side, chest heaving, eyes clouded over with a newfound determination for vengeance.

They stood facing Debbie and Carl, who stood side by side as well, smiling like they've won the battle already. The four of them stared at each other like they were in the middle of a Western standoff.

"Gross," Debbie teased.

"Disgusting," Carl concurred and grinned when the two boys in front of them raised their eyebrows.

Ian looked at Mickey. Mickey looked at Ian. Then they charged, yelling with abandon.

Carl and Debbie were already laughing by the time Ian and Mickey respectively tackled them. They tickled the two little shits until they were screaming uncle and the other four onlookers were doubled over laughing.

 

* * *

 

Ten more minutes passed before they realized that the sun had set, they were soaking wet, and that it was goddamn _frigid_. They quickly rushed up the stairs and back into the darkened home before scattering to their rooms and changing, laughing and shivering the entire time.

Lip, Fiona, Carl and Liam went to their rooms to change while Debbie led Mandy to her room to lend her some clothes because – let's face it – Debbie had grown a whole lot in eight months.

Mickey and Ian set up candles downstairs before going upstairs to change. As they entered the room, Carl and Liam ran passed them, through the threshold, as Lip exhaustedly chased them out, shooting the boyfriends an apologetic look as he exited the room.

Ian laughed at his idiotic siblings as he sat down on the bed, after placing a candle on the desk on the other side of the room. Mickey noticed how soaked Ian's bandages had gotten and how they were basically unwrapping themselves from Ian's hand.

"Take your shit off while I go get the kit to fix that," Mickey gestured casually to Ian's hand.

When he returned, Ian was just in boxers and was seated on the bed, hand palm up on his thigh waiting for Mickey's attention. His smile was wide.

Mickey laughed and shook his head, "aren't you fucking cold?"

"You'd think so, right?" Ian responded with a shrug, "I guess all that playing outside warmed me up."

Ian gestured to the first aid kit in Mickey's hand, "you don't have to fix me up, you know. I can do it myself." He sounded apologetic.

"First of all, you're damn right I don't have to do shit," Mickey shed his soaked coat, sweaters, shirt and jeans before sitting on Ian's left side, gently grabbing his hand, and giving his boyfriend a stern look.

"But I want to. So let me do this, Ian."

Ian sighed and let Mickey tend his hand for the second day in a row. He stared at Mickey the entire time, though, watching how the brunette was tending his hand with both determination and gentleness.

When Mickey finished bandaging Ian's hand, he didn't pull away. Instead, he intertwined their fingers like he had the day before and sighed, feeling bittersweet.

He stared down at Ian's hand like it was some sort of reminder. A reminder of the promise they had made to Mandy the day before, and a reminder of Ian's continuous struggle. A reminder that Ian would always be fighting the urge to outburst, no matter how in control his meds made him; a reminder that Ian would be fighting this for the rest of his life.

As Mickey lost himself in thought, Ian lost himself in Mickey's unreadable face. He didn't know what Mickey was thinking, but he could sense that it was worrying him.

"Mickey?"

Mickey only lifted his head to Ian, shaking his earlier unfathomable expression. He smiled at Ian so kindly that Ian found himself losing his train of thought at Mickey's expression. He couldn't believe Mickey, the boy who would have knocked him out cold if Ian so much as tried to hold his hand in private, was taking care of his wounds like they were the most delicate things in the world.

It didn't escape Mickey that they were both almost completely naked and that the cold was slowly creeping back underneath their skin. He suddenly felt like he needed the heat to keep on going.

He let go of Ian's hand, stood up, and took off his boxers, which were seemingly completely dry. Ian was thoroughly confused by this.

"Mickey, what are you -"

"Shut up," Mickey said without bite. He slowly approached Ian, like he wasn't sure what the hell he was doing, and straddled the boxer-clad redhead. Ian was still thoroughly baffled. Mickey had never sat on Ian's lap like this before.

But before he could ask anymore about it, Mickey was already kissing him. Yeah, at that point Ian couldn't care less about asking questions. He held onto Mickey tight around his waist while his boyfriend wrapped his arms around Ian's neck like it was a lifeline.

Finally, Mickey pulled back. He avoided contact with Ian's eyes but after a few seconds looked up through his eyelashes; Ian couldn't believe he was looking at such a flustered Mickey. Last time he saw the brunette this shy was when he had revealed to Ian his anal beads for the first time.

Mickey contemplated what he was going to say next, a flush building from his neck creeping up his face because he figured it would be embarrassing to ask no matter how he put it.

"If I wanted to ride you, would you let me?"

For a good moment, Ian went still with surprise. Mickey had never ridden Ian, and Ian sure as hell knew better than to ask him to. They've been together for so long (albeit, on and off), they knew each other's limits inside and out. Riding was definitely one of Mickey's limits.

Warmth settled over Ian in that moment. He realized that Mickey, again, was opening up to him in his own way. Mickey always had unusual ways of telling Ian he was his one and only.

Ian's confused face turned downright sinful with that realization. His expression was the kind that made Mickey dick harden in anticipation. He guessed asking wasn't as embarrassing as he had thought it would be.

Ian then smirked at his boyfriend, "you're really fucking cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

Alright, fuck it, he was a total fucking embarrassment. He huffed and tried to push away but Ian gripped him tighter, making them both moan at the friction between Ian's boxers and their dicks.

"Hmmm, let me think it over," Ian's wicked expression was back and it effectively chased Mickey's shyness away. The redhead flipped his boyfriend onto the bed so that Mickey was on his back.

Mickey tried to keep his eyes on Ian but the way the redhead settled on top of him, mouth on neck, hip against dick, had him moaning softly and throwing his head back in pleasure.

"If you wanted to ride me," Ian repeated quietly into the crook of Mickey's neck. His hand ghosted over Mickey's erection underneath him, making the brunette arch for more contact.

"I wouldn't think twice about it," Ian lifted his head and smiled widely at his squirming brunette.

"You're a fucking dick," Mickey laughed out, but his grin was huge.

"Are you gonna ride me or are you just gonna keep insulting me until I lose my hard-on?" Ian teased.

Mickey raised his eyebrows so far up Ian was sure it would meet his hairline. Before he knew it, Mickey had surged up and flipped them over so that now Mickey was straddling Ian on the bed.

"Yeah, it'd be a real shame if we lost this hard-on," Mickey palmed Ian over his boxers for a few seconds before settling at his feet to take them off. They both knew Ian's hard-on wasn't going anywhere.

As Mickey crawled up Ian's body, Ian reached for the lube inside one of his drawers and passed the small bottle to Mickey. The brunette lathered his hand and settled himself on top of Ian. He grasped the redhead's dick from in between them and began to stroke.

Ian closed his eyes and bit out, "fuck," before biting his lip because he probably shouldn't be moaning when things just got started.

But Mickey _loved_ making Ian come undone like this. So he kept stroking with more fervor, losing himself in the sweat accumulating on Ian's forehead and the curses Ian kept biting out.

Mickey dipped his head to suck on Ian's neck when he let go of Ian's cock. He grabbed Ian's unwounded hand and intertwined their fingers so that the rest of the lube from Mickey's hand lathered the redhead's fingers.

Mickey pulled himself up so that his knees were on either side of Ian's hips. He looked directly into Ian's eyes, which were glossed over with need and heat. Mickey didn't want to look away for a second. He probably couldn't if he tried.

He grabbed Ian's right hand and guided it to Mickey's hole. This time it was Mickey's turn to bite his lips, because Ian started losing patience and, without warning, skipped one finger and penetrated Mickey with two.

"Shit," Mickey arched his back, giving Ian an unbelievable view of Mickey's body. Both of them started breathing like the air was leaving the room.

While Ian fucked him with his fingers, Mickey fell forward and hid his face in Ian's neck again, panting heavily as he pushed back with every thrust.

Mickey was the one who finally had the sense to stop the prep before they both got carried away. He lifted himself again and moaned when Ian's fingers pulled out of him.

Ian's hands wandered all over Mickey's body before he placed them on the brunette's thighs when Mickey reached for Ian's dick and settled on top of it. They'd never fucked like this before so a little adjustment was required.

Then Mickey started moving, and his movements quickly built steam. Ian lifted his hips to meet Mickey thrust for thrust. They both threw their heads back when Ian hit Mickey's sweet spot and caused him to clench around Ian.

"Fuck," Mickey groaned before falling on top of Ian once again. Ian knew Mickey was close now, so he reached between them to stroke the brunette until they both came undone.

Mickey didn't mean to, but he bit into Ian's neck when he came, trying to muffle his mewls. Ian hissed at Mickey's bite, but fuck if it didn't make his orgasm hit harder.

Neither of them bothered to pull away, so they both decided to wait until the cold forced them to get up and get clothed.

Ian sighed as Mickey nuzzled his neck, and responded by running his hand through the brunette's hair.

"I don't know what I have to do for it to happen," Ian said softly into Mickey's hair, "but we've _got_ to do that again."

Mickey laughed, causing shivers to run up the back of Ian's neck.

"Dream on, Firecrotch," he said into Ian's neck. And this time, Ian wasn't all that surprised by how well he knew Mickey because he may have just told Ian to fuck off, but Ian knew it would _definitely_ be happening again.

 

* * *

 

Night Four ended the same way every other night had since the storm. More card games, more jokes, more weed, and more vodka. Debbie, Carl, and Mandy slept in the living room, while Lip, Fiona, and Liam slept upstairs. Ian and Mickey had reluctantly joined the party after the cold had chased away their afterglow, but happily returned to their snuggling in Ian's bed when everyone finally went to sleep.

It was three in the morning when the whole house woke to banging on the front door. Mickey and Ian jumped at the sudden noise, but groaned as they both looked at each other and knew exactly who it would be, because who else would bang on the Gallaghers' front door at 3 AM?

"Frank," they said in unison and got up to open the door. Ian hoped the drunk would just come in and knock out on the floor without causing too much of a fuss.

"I got it," Ian said as he stepped down the stairs, noticing that Carl was getting up to open the door. Lip, Fiona, and Mickey followed with tired expressions behind Ian. The moonlight was enough to iluminate the living room enough for everyone to see.

Ian opened the door to find a shivering and poorly clad Frank Gallagher. Ian knew with one look at Frank's face that he was _not_ going to spare them a hard time.

"About goddamn _time_ ," Frank shoved passed Ian and walked towards the kitchen before rounding on the party of seven, who were all too sleepy to really see where this was going.

“Frank, it's 3 AM. Just, find an empty spot on the floor and let the rest of us go to sleep."

"You're damn right it's 3 AM! I'm homeless for three days and four fucking nights and my children don't bother to come find me!"

"Dad, we were snowed in, there was nothing we could do," Debbie tried.

"Like hell there was nothing you could do! Like you weren't glad I was freezing to death - you know, I bet the lot of you didn't even _think_ about me this entire time."

Well, he was right about them not really thinking about him. But it wasn't like they wouldn't have helped him if they had known his whereabouts. Debbie and Carl would have made sure they got his ass back to safety if they had known where he was during and since the storm.

"Frank, don't talk to her like that," Ian walked towards his father to try and placate him.

"Don't _you_ talk to _me_ like that," Frank bit out as he closed the distance between him and his son. He poked one finger firmly against Ian's sternum before accusing, "I bet you would have been the happiest of the bunch to hear if they found my dead, frozen body underneath the L."

Everyone was now awake enough to definitely see where this was going. It was Mickey who moved first, but Lip quickly stopped him by grabbing his elbow.

"Don't," he said as he stared at Ian and Frank from the staircase. "Ian's got this; we don't need anyone else making the situation worse."

At this point, Frank shoved at Ian, not nearly done with his tirade. Ian stumbled back but remained balance, expression stoic as he waited for his father's next move.

"You were always the first to wish me gone," Frank finally said.

Ian couldn't believe Frank's audacity. Or maybe he could. Ian was always the scapegoat for Frank, no matter what the situation.

Fed up, and without thinking twice, Ian chuckled darkly and responded, "you're not wrong."

At this, Frank snapped. He practically sprinted to Ian and head butted him so hard Ian fell back against the couch, causing Mandy to jump and immediately tend to the redhead.

Before anyone could even process what the fuck just happened, Mickey had shaken out of Lip's hold and, all within a second, made his fist meet with Frank's jaw with unbelievable force. Mickey probably broke a knuckle or two on contact, but he couldn't bring himself to give a fuck as he panted heavily above Frank's motionless body.

Everyone remained quiet as the rest of them caught up with what just happened within the past three minutes.

Debbie was the first to get to her father's body, "is he dead?" she said shallowly.

"No," Mickey gritted out, noticing the rise and fall of the drunk's chest.

Ian was now seated on the couch, Mandy by his side as she tilted his head back to help stop his nose from bleeding.

"Get him the fuck out of here," Lip said next.

"But it's freezing!" Carl, who was now standing behind Debbie, rebutted.

"Carl, how many times is Frank going to beat and neglect his kids before you realize that he's a lost cause?" Lip wasn't having anymore of this bullshit.

"Throw him a fuckin' blanket if you're so worried about his wellbeing," Mickey added, still staring down at Frank. He turned around to sit on the other side of Ian while Lip and Carl dragged Frank out of the house and underneath the L. Debbie made sure they left him with two blankets.

When Lip and Carl returned, Fiona had already returned to her room, not wanting to leave Liam alone for too long. Lip ushered Carl back to his and Debbie's makeshift sleeping area in front of the couch, and reassured the two teens, "I can guarantee you Frank won't remember a single thing. Don't feel bad, because he won't."

He patted their heads before turning to the Milkoviches and Ian, "he okay?"

"Nothing broken, but he's bleeding a lot," Mandy replied.

"You guys should catch sleep, don't worry about me," Ian muffled out from underneath a towel they had gotten from the kitchen.

Mickey scoffed. He grabbed Ian's hand and stood up, making the redhead follow.

The two of them said goodnight to the other five and returned to their room.

"Mickey..." Ian said unsurely because Mickey looked pissed as all hell.

"Mickey, I'm okay. You didn't have to do that."

Mickey scoffed again, "like he didn’t have it coming for a fuckin' while."

The brunette sighed and sat by Ian's side on the bed.

"I just," he paused, as if to try and collect his thoughts, idly stretching the hand with broken knuckles in front of him, wincing at the pain, "I'm so fucking _tired_ of family hurting family, you know?"

Ian's heart clenched because boy, did he know. It took everything for him not to go berserk on Terry Milkovich after being victim and witness to atrocity after atrocity. It took everything for him not to beat Frank to death whenever he laid a hand on him. Ian couldn't help but think his intolerance for this kind of family violence and neglect was starting to rub off on Mickey. As much as he could sympathize, he wished Mickey wouldn't feel the pain of being witness and victim to such abuse. Now he was sure Mickey wished the same thing for him.

"Yeah," he reached for Mickey's unhurt hand and squeezed. "I know."

The boys tended to each other's wounds for the next hour, taking their time because it wasn't smart for Ian to go back to sleep with his nose still bleeding. Mickey's broken knuckle also slowed his movements down substantially. They remained quiet the entire time, happily settling into each other's soft and curing touches. They didn't know if or when Frank would come back, but it was good to know that either of them would knock the drunk out if need be. Fuck if they were gonna let family hurt family anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a little bummed because I couldn’t find any reference to the how the Gallagher back staircase and yard are set up, and I was too lazy to look back at episodes. If my memory serves me right, it’s possible to jump from the top of the steps into the yard? I'm trying really hard to make this fic read like it could seriously be canon, so I feel bad that I may have fucked up with that. ._. 
> 
> I have to give complete credit for the idea of Mickey laying Frank out to [clever-grl](http://clever-grl.tumblr.com/post/97302484297/ian-is-the-only-kid-that-frank-has-ever-hit-i) on tumblr. She made that post and since reading it I haven't been able to shake that idea out of my head, so I wrote it down! Goodness, wouldn't it feel so damn good if it actually happened in canon? #prayforseason5
> 
> Anyway, I'm not satisfied with the amount of smut I've written so far. That's gotta change.
> 
> -[r](http://girlplatano.tumblr.com)


	5. Out of the Frying-Pan Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're jealous," Ian cutely accused after a few minutes of walking by Mickey's side. They bumped into each other every now and then since the sidewalk was cleared of just enough snow so that two people can walk side by side. They didn't mind much, they would probably bump into each other willingly even if they had all the space in the world. 
> 
> "The fuck you talking about?" Mickey was genuinely annoyed. How the fuck did this redheaded fucker always manage to see right through him?
> 
> "You're worried my brothers and sisters are gonna whisk me away, aren't you?" Ian squinted his eyes at the side of Mickey's face as they kept walking, determined to get right to the core of Mickey's insecurities.
> 
> "You think that now that I'm better, I'll just go back to them, don't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Out of the Frying-Pan Into the Fire" is the title of the sixth chapter of _The Hobbit_ , and if the title didn't already clue you in, it's about to heat up in this chapter. Heat up in both the good and bad sense of the word (I'm sorry).
> 
> I'm kind of hazy in the midst of a bad cold and cough, so I didn't get around to editing this chapter as much as I would have liked. 
> 
> Trigger warning: depictions of domestic abuse and violence
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hey, you alright?" Mickey asked as he leaned against the bathroom threshold, facing Ian. He ran a hand down his tired face as his vision acclimated to the dark.

It had to be only a few hours since Mickey knocked Frank out. It was probably six in the morning or something; the sun had yet to rise.

Ian splashed his face one last time with his right hand before turning off the faucet and bracing his arms on either side of the sink. He looked up at Mickey's reflection in the mirror. Ian looked tired, worn, with fresh blood trickling slowly down his upper lip. Shit, it looked like the four day power outage knocked the shit right out of him, despite the limited activity.

"Massive headache," he turned to dry his hands and clean his nose, "plus I heard Liam's crying from Fiona's room."

Oh. Mickey looked down at his feet but soon his gaze lifted when he realized Ian had walked up to him, eyes loving and soft, but also just plain sad. He wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist and Mickey let him. Mickey let his arms fall on Ian's shoulder. He let himself breathe Ian in as Ian did the same to Mickey's neck.

"You know it's not your fault, right?" Ian didn't respond.

"It's not your fault Fiona fucked up. It's not your fault Liam got hurt."

It was then Ian responded. Without words, though, at first. He just held onto Mickey tighter, as if Mickey was the guilt he'd been drowning in since returning to Chicago from the army a year earlier. Since returning to his family a few months after that.

"It's my fault I wasn't here," Ian cooed softly into Mickey's neck.

 _No, no, no,_ Mickey cursed himself inwardly because, _the fault is entirely mine._

Neither of them had yet to accept that it was neither of their faults they got dealt shit cards in life. Mickey had yet to accept that it was really Terry that chased Ian out of Chicago, not Mickey. Ian yet to accept that it was Fiona's addiction to self-sabotaging that led to Liam's hospital stay.

It can be so easy to put the entire blame on yourself when the blame lies on just about everything else.

"You're here now," Mickey murmured into Ian's hair. Mickey would often tell himself that - _Ian's here now_ \- when the goings got tough, but now he said it for Ian and for Ian only. He felt Ian's embrace relax at those words, but he knew his redhead was still withering away with guilt.

Mickey closed his eyes and stood in the embrace for a minute before he tried pulled away. Ian held tight.

"C'mon, let's just lay in bed for a bit. We'll go back to my place later where you can sleep better," because why sleep in a twin sized bed when you have a queen sized one at home?

"Should probably check up on Yevgeny anyway," Mickey added casually, as if he wasn't already feeling some weird separation anxiety about spending so much time away from his son.

Ian mumbled inaudibly against Mickey's neck.

"What's that, mumbles?" Mickey smiled to himself.

"I'm not tired," Ian repeated.

"Who said we're gonna sleep?" Mickey teased. Ian knew the fucker was raising his eyebrows.

Ian laughed against the base of Mickey's neck, pulled back and let the shorter man lead him to the bedroom.

They settled in bed, Mickey on his back and Ian curled against the side of his body, head on chest, arm around waist. Mickey sighed deeply as the warmth of Ian's body eased over and into his.

A few minutes passed before a chuckle shook Mickey away from his thoughts.

"The fuck you chucklin' at?" Mickey was genuinely curious; what could possibly have Ian Gallagher chuckling at six in the morning in this cold, dark room?

Ian gazed coquettishly up at his brunette, making Mickey _very_ curious about what Ian Gallagher was chuckling at.

"It's nothing, nothing," Ian waved dismissively as he settled his mouth on Mickey's neck. Mickey would have kept insisting if Ian's mouth hadn't felt so goddamn warm against his skin.

"It's just," then Ian started _licking_ Mickey's neck, and at that point Mickey couldn't give less of a fuck about what had the redhead laughing earlier. "There's blood on your neck," Ian said finally, chuckling again. Lick, lick, _suck_.

"Wha-?" Mickey took a few seconds to catch up with what Ian was getting at. The blood probably came from when Ian, nose still slightly bloodied, hugged Mickey underneath the bathroom threshold earlier.

"Oh," he didn't even bother to hide the disappointment in his voice when Ian pulled away from his neck with one last kiss and resettled on Mickey's chest.

"There, all gone," Ian whispered contently.

"Mmm," was all Mickey could respond.

But the feeling of Ian's lips lingered still on Mickey's neck, the cool air meeting the spit lathered skin sweetly. And then he couldn't help himself; he began to squirm ever so slightly with the need to have Ian's lips on him again.

He squirmed enough for Ian to notice.

"Something wrong, Mick?" Ian asked, smirking into the fabric of Mickey's shirt.

Mickey sighed, exasperated. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it when Ian teased him so. Yeah, it would be one big fat lie if he said he didn't really _love_ it.

"Like you don't already know, Ian," Mickey muttered sarcastically into the air, eyes closed and arms relaxed around Ian. He tightened his hold when Ian again pulled away from his chest and started kissing his neck. He licked, bit, and sucked until Mickey was sighing with pleasure and relaxing his embrace once again.

"You know," Ian uttered in between kisses, "we have a lot of time to kill before heading to your place."

"Yeah," Mickey agreed idly, at this point lost in the darkness of the room and getting more and more taken away by how Ian was touching him. His eyes remained closed as Ian's hand moved up Mickey's torso and finally rested comfortably on the other side of Mickey's neck.

"What to do," Ian kissed below Mickey's ear before trailing the hand that was on Mickey's neck down his torso and ghosting it over his sweatpants, "to pass the time?"

Now it was Mickey's turn to laugh, "you think you're real fuckin' cute, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ian murmured against Mickey's jaw before whispering against the corner of his mouth, "and so do you." Ian emphasized his point by slipping his hand underneath Mickey's sweats and finally kissing him sweetly. Mickey gasped into Ian's mouth at the contact.

Mickey didn't have the wherewithal to argue with him as Ian kissed and stroked him. But truthfully, he thought to himself, there was probably no argument about it at all.

 

* * *

 

Ian and Mickey passed the time just fine until the sun rose and the everyone else in the house started to wake up. The boys decided that they'd return to Mickey's house after they've eaten breakfast.

After a few more hours of passing the time, they joined the rest of the Gallaghers and Mandy in the kitchen downstairs.

"Good morning!" Fiona perked up at the sight of the two boys, who were clad from head to toe in winter gear. Ian noticed how eagerly she served cereal into the many bowls lined up on the counter. She quickly poured milk in all the bowls before rounding the kitchen counter and setting the bowls in front of Debbie, Carl, and Liam, who were all seated at the table.

Mandy and Lip, too, were seated at the table with their own bowls of cereal in front of them.

"Someone's chipper this morning," Ian quipped at Fiona as he sat on one of the tall chairs by the counter, Mickey following suit next to him.

"Well, you would be too if you spent five days and four nights up in this shitstain of a house and then finally get the green light to go to work again." She leaned against the counter, raised her eyebrows at Ian, and started downing her cereal.

"The L back up already?" Mickey was genuinely surprised. And kind of disappointed because, if the L was back up, that probably meant the Alibi was back in business, full swing. And it also meant he'd be away from Ian; from this little unexpected vacation they'd come to grow very comfortable with. So he mentally crossed his fingers waiting for Fiona's answer.

"Yep!" _Fuck._ "Time to start bringing home the bread again," Fiona said in between bites. She finally finished, gulped down the rest of her coffee, before grabbing her keys off the counter and waving the rest of the party goodbye.

"Later!" she called out.

The other seven grumbled and responded halfheartedly, still clearing out of the early morning fog.

Mandy chuckled to herself after Fiona slammed the front door, but it was loud enough for Lip to hear.

"What you laughing at?" Lip smiled at her quizzically.

"Oh," she hadn't expected anyone to notice her inward laugh, but she figured she might as well answer him.

Mandy smiled at her cereal before responding, "she just, really loves taking care of you guys is all."

"I mean, no one gets _that_ excited to go back to work at a fucking diner, right? It's for you guys; it's obvious. It's all for you," Mandy somewhat tapered off at the end.

Mandy was right. It was pretty damn obvious to everyone, especially the Gallaghers, just how much Fiona put into raising her siblings. They'd seen it all their lives; how much Fiona wholeheartedly sacrificed for her siblings since before she aged ten, since their mother left all those years ago -- but, it's been so many months since they've been able to see it that clearly. So many months since Liam's overdose.

Finally, Debbie cut through the silence with a laugh, "it feels good to hear that, you know? Sometimes you gotta hear it out loud so that you don't forget."

Lip smiled and nudged Debbie on the shoulder as the rest of them continued eating their meals and passing time in the kitchen.

Mandy smiled at Debbie across the table as she chattered away with her brother. Mandy was glad the little redhead saved her in the awkward silence, but most of all, Mandy was glad she was able to remind the five Gallaghers before her just how important they really were.

 

* * *

 

Ian and Mickey were absolutely exhausted by the time noon rolled around. Their tiredness did nothing to help the throbbing pains from their bruises and wounds.

"I need a bed, _stat_ ," Ian murmured as he slumped on the couch, Mickey's head on Ian's shoulder slumping down with him. "I need _your_ bed, stat," the redhead clarified, nudging at Mickey.

"Disgusting," Carl murmured from in front of the couch, and was met with a swift kick to the bum, courtesy of Mickey.

"Fuck off, not like that twin sized piece of shit upstairs is doing any wonders for our comfort," Mickey defended. Above him, Ian smiled because Mickey basically just admitted to them sharing a bed. The satisfaction that washed over him in that moment was almost incomparable.

Mickey then nudged back at Ian and responded groggily, "let's go."

As they stood, Debbie and Liam entered the living room from the kitchen, Lip and Mandy following close behind.

"Wait, are you leaving?" Debbie sounded genuinely hurt, as if they weren't just leaving for a nap, but something much longer.

Liam ran to Ian and the redhead lifted his little brother into his arms. "We just wanna catch up on sleep, is all, check up on Yevgeny. You know, the works," he reassured his sister as he bounced Liam in his arms.

"Promise, I'll come back as soon as I rest up."

"That's what he said last time," Liam said, surprising everyone, pointing an innocent finger to Mickey's face.

Ian turned to Mickey, sincerely confused by Liam's statement, hoping to find an answer there. And, though he wished he hadn't, he did. Mickey's face faltered at the child's accusing finger, and Ian quickly realized what Mickey was looking so guilty about.

 

_"Promise, he'll be back as soon as he rests up," Mickey smilingly reassured a disappointed Liam, who was bobbing up and down in Lip's arms. Mickey patted the kid on the head, feeling proud of himself for getting used to kids all of a sudden now that he accepted the fact that he had his own._

_Liam had just asked Mickey when Ian would visit the Gallagher home. Ian was just getting out of his first depressive episode and it was a milestone in itself getting him to go to the doctor's office in the first place._

_"So you got him to go, huh?" Lip sounded genuinely impressed as he stood outside the Milkovich's front door. The condescension in his voice bugged the shit out of Mickey._

_"Yeah, just got him on meds," Mickey wanted to wrap up this conversation as soon as possible, "might take a week or two to kick in."_

_"Huh," Lip looked around, as if to evaluate the Milkovich home. "Well, if you, uh, need anything," he nervously gestured in the general direction of the Gallagher house, as if to say_ you know where we are _._

_Mickey smiled as politely as he could, giving one last pat on Liam's head, before taking his chance and shutting the door._

_He sighed and went back to sit by Ian's side on the bed. He gently caressed Ian's unresponsive body over the covers._

_"So I promised your brother, Liam, that you'd visit once you feel better. Sounds good, huh? He misses you."_

_Mickey didn't expect Ian to respond, but he did. He mumbled slowly from underneath his covers, "yeah, when I'm better."_

_It was six weeks before Ian could see his brother again._

 

Everyone else remained silent as the atmosphere in the room changed drastically. All the Gallagher's looked at Ian like he was fleeting. It made him want to hold on even tighter.

"Guys, honestly," he set Liam down before finishing, "I just need to rest, Mickey needs to check up on Yev; I'm not fleeing Chicago." He realized that last part may not have been a smart thing to say, considering he had already fled Chicago once nearly a year ago.

He sighed, tired at himself and just tired in general. He tried again, "you guys forget Christmas is in a few days?" Debbie and Carl's faces immediately brightened at the reminder.

"Yeah, looks like you did," Ian laughed. "I wouldn't miss a Christmas with you guys for the world."

That seemed to do the trick. His three younger siblings had wide grins plastered on their faces, like Ian was their only source of happiness in that moment. Hell, he probably was.

Mickey saw this entire exchange bittersweetly and thought to add, "I'll be sure he makes it. But right now, we gotta go. Tired as fuck," he finished tersely.

"Hey, I'm gonna head over too in a few hours, pick up some shit," Mandy called out from underneath the kitchen threshold. Being holed up at the Gallaghers' wearing Debbie's clothing sure made her forget she lived elsewhere.

"Sounds good," Mickey replied as he practically dragged Ian out of the door.

 

* * *

 

"You're jealous," Ian cutely accused after a few minutes of walking by Mickey's side. They bumped into each other every now and then since the sidewalk was cleared of just enough snow so that two people can walk side by side. They didn't mind much, they would probably bump into each other willingly even if they had all the space in the world.

"The fuck you talking about?" Mickey was genuinely annoyed. How the fuck did this redheaded fucker always manage to see right through him?

"You're worried my brothers and sisters are gonna whisk me away, aren't you?" Ian squinted his eyes at the side of Mickey's face as they kept walking, determined to get right to the core of Mickey's insecurities.

"You think that now that I'm better, I'll just go back to them, don't you?" Ian's tone was less jesting now, slowly turning concerned the more he read Mickey's face.

"Would you fuck off with that shit?" Mickey threw a hand up, exasperated, but decided not to walk faster or slower than Ian. Silence settled upon the two boys as they walked for a couple of more blocks.

Finally, Mickey couldn't hold it in. He blurted out, "you're right."

Ian looked at him, unbelieving, "right about what?"

Mickey scratched at his eyebrows but kept his vision on the path in front of him while Ian's bore into the side of Mickey's head.

He sighed and figured Ian would end up dragging it out of him sooner or later, so might as well.

"I'd miss you," he said lowly, keeping his eyes on the path ahead of him. "I'd miss you, if you left."

If Mickey wasn't already flushing from the cold, he definitely was now. He could see Ian beam from his peripheral vision and couldn't help but eventually glance at a completely smitten Ian Gallagher. Mickey tried to bite back a laugh, but let it go because, honestly, Gallagher's smile was downright contagious.

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey shoved at Ian's shoulder, still unable to shake the smile from his flushing face.

"I didn't say anything!" Ian raised his hands in surrender but the smile remained on his face until they entered the Milkovich home.

The silence was enough to clue in both boys that Yevgeny and Svetlana were not home, probably out with Nika. That's all Ian needed to know before he rounded on Mickey and backed him up against the closed front door, breathing hotly as he ground against his boyfriend.

"You'd miss me, huh?" he asked and before Mickey could answer, Ian kissed him, slow and sweet, before pulling back and resting his forehead against Mickey's.

"Even if it meant I wouldn't be a burden to you anymore?" Ian relaxed, closing eyes his and sighing dejectedly as his boyfriend read his face.

Now it was Mickey's turn to look right at the core of Ian's insecurities.

Mickey went mute as he contemplated what to say next. "You're not a burden," Mickey whispered. Ian scoffed in response.

"I mean it, Ian," Mickey reached his hand up to rest on Ian's cheek, "every second of struggle is nothing if it means I get to feel you like this."

At this, Ian opened his eyes, stunned at Mickey's confession.

Mickey didn't stop there. "I mean it," he repeated, "this is everything to me." He gestured at the still air between them.

Words literally caught in Ian's throat as he tried to figure out what to respond. Hell, he was sure there were no words to say at all. He gazed at Mickey's certain eyes, looking for some sort of tell that Mickey doubted his own words even for a second. But fuck if he didn't already know that Mickey was _in it_.

Ian's uncertainty washed away once Mickey kissed him again, sweet and slow, just like Ian had a few minutes ago.

"Let's sleep," Ian said lazily against Mickey's lips. This little dialogue between them made his fatigue all the more apparent.

"Mmm," Mickey murmured as he unzipped Ian's coat while keeping his lips on Ian's.

They settled into bed in sweaters and sweats, but that didn't stop Ian from slipping his cool hands underneath Mickey's shirt as he wrapped his limbs around Mickey's shorter body. Mickey was sure Ian's cold hands literally warmed him, if that was possible.

As Mickey slowly lost himself in sleep, there was nothing on his mind but Ian's body around his own. Ian's hands on his skin. Ian's breath against his neck. _Ian, Ian, Ian._

Mickey reached idly for Ian's hand that lay on Mickey's stomach. He knew for certain, even while on the brink of subconsciousness, that every moment of struggle really did mean nothing, because Ian just being there meant absolutely everything.

 

* * *

 

Mickey awoke a few hours later to the front door slamming shut. He confusedly assessed his surroundings because, admittedly, he'd gotten used to waking up in Ian's room at the Gallaghers'. He checked his phone for the time. 4 PM, on the dot.

He silently unfurled himself from Ian's embrace. The redhead was sleeping soundly and Mickey took his chance to run his hand affectionately down the side of Ian's face. He'd been doing that a lot since Ian came to live with him, as if to constantly remind himself that, yeah, Ian was _here_.

He sighed and stood up to find out who had just come home.

"Hey," Mandy called out when he appeared in the living room. She was cleaning up some empty beer bottles and headed to the kitchen to throw them out. Yev and Lana had yet to return.

"Glad I finally caught a break from those damn Gallaghers," she chuckled. Mickey grunted in agreement because he could relate. Damn Gallaghers, alright. They can drag you into their lives and chain you up faster than Frank can down three straight shots.

"I gotta head to the Alibi since business up and running again," Mickey explained quickly to his sister, who was now clearing the kitchen counters. "You good to stay with Ian for a bit?" he gestured towards his room where Ian was sleeping.

"Yeah, no problem. We'll let you know if we head on back or something," she said as she started lighting candles since the sun was starting to set.

"Thanks," Mickey said simply as he walked through the door and towards the L.

 

* * *

 

Kev didn't even bother to hide his shit-eating grin when Mickey entered the Alibi and settled himself at the bar.

"The fuck you smilin' at?" Mickey asked, disgruntled, as he gestured for beer. Kev served him from tap and slid the glass to Mickey.

"You're back, is all. I'll tell ya, Mickey, business goes slow as shit upstairs when you're not here hustling."

"You're telling me? I've only told you a million times how you're the worst fuckin' pimp I've ever seen."

Kev shrugged, "just saying, things are gonna go faster now that you're here."

"Yeah, I know," Mickey grumbled into his pint of beer. He needed alcohol if he was going to deal with horny old men for the next few hours.

"So," Kev wiped down the bar counter as he eyed Mickey curiously, "how'd the snow-in treat you?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "We makin' small talk like we're ol' buddies now, Kev?"

Kev laughed heartedly, because it was definitely odd to think of themselves as buddies. But when he sobered, he looked at Mickey with an amused expression.

Mickey figured, fuck it, before letting it go, "fucking _Gallaghers_ , man. They really take if out of you, you know?"

Kev laughed again and just shrugged as if to say, _eh, what can you do?_

"Tell me about it. Guarantee you if it weren't for the power outage on our block, they'd be crawling all up in my house stealing our space heaters." They both chuckled at the thought of six shivering Gallaghers rummaging through Kev and Vee's house.

“Say, what are you up to on New Year's?” Kev asked after they laughed some more about goddamn Gallaghers.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Well, if you’re not too busy playing house with Ian,” he teased, “you’re both welcome to stop by and celebrate here, with the rest of the Gallaghers. I’m thinking about opening the Alibi to just close friends on the Eve, and of course, what’s a man’s best friend if not his main pimp?”

“Alright, you need to stop talking right now.”

“I’m serious! Open bar, close friends, Gallaghers, Milkoviches,” he began counting on his fingers before slamming his fists on the bar and yelling, “Balls!”

Mickey couldn’t help but laugh at Kev’s sad attempt at a pun. Before he could make fun of him, though, Veronica appeared from behind Kev’s giant figure, with one baby in each arm.

“Hey, Mickey! Kev, you tell him about the New Year's Eve party?”

“The fuck did you come from?” Mickey asked, genuinely confused that Vee seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

She pointed at the front exit of the Alibi from behind the bar counter with a deadpan expression that said, _duh_.

Kev chuckled and responded to his wife, “yeah, I told him. I think he’d prefer staying in with Ian, though. It’s starting to look like he’s getting fond of romantic candlelit dinners with toddlers screaming in the background.”

“Alright, I’ll show up! Just,” Mickey pushed away his empty pint glass, “shut the fuck up already!”

Vee and Kev laughed as an annoyed Mickey got off the stool and started hustling like he never took a vacation in the first place.

 

It was around 7 PM when Mickey felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He picked it up, noticing Mandy's name on the Caller ID.

"Mandy, what's up?" he asked as he took a break from his hustling to sit by the bar. His tensed immediately when he noticed crying from the other line of the call.

"Mandy? Mandy, is everything okay?"

"Kenyatta," Mandy managed to softly cry out, "Kenyatta came and, _fuck_ , Mickey. Please. Just, come home now." Words were not her friend in that moment, but fuck did Mickey need _more_.

"Mickey, just tell me, is Kenyatta there now?" he needed to know if he should come prepared.

"No, no, no. He's gone, he's gone. But," she took a shaking breath, "he left a mess. I - Ian's hurt, Mickey."

That was all Mickey needed to hear before he bolted out of the Alibi.

 

* * *

 

"Mandy? Mandy!" Mickey panted as he burst through the front door of his home. He first noticed soft crying from the couch. Then, as Mandy lifted her head from Ian's shoulders on the couch, he noticed how fucking _battered_ she was. Her neck was bruised as if someone had strangled her, and her lip was split something nasty. He'd never felt fury build up in his stomach so fast. He wanted to _scream_.

As if that wasn't enough, Mickey finally got a good look at Ian as he rounded the couch and sat by his side so that Ian was in the middle.

Ian was awake, but his eyes looked a thousand miles away. His hands, bloodied, shook violently as Mandy held onto his around his shoulders. Like her embrace would keep him grounded. He had a cut above his eyebrow, and his nose was bleeding. The way the candles in the room lit up Ian's face made him look fifteen years older.

"What happened?" Mickey managed to grit out without losing his shit.

The question made Mandy visibly deflate. She murmured loud enough for her brother to hear, "Kenyatta came. He came and saw me and just _lost it_ , Mickey. He started swinging and _wouldn't stop_ and -" she paused like she choked on her own words.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Mickey reached over to hold her hand that lay on Ian's knee.

She took a steadying breath and tried again, "he didn't know Ian was home. He heard our yells from the bedroom and tried to get Kenyatta off me and when he did he started going at him. And then -"

"And then I just, didn't stop," Ian muttered as he looked down at his hands, covered in Kenyatta's blood as well as his own.

Mickey wondered how much damage Ian did on Kenyatta. He worried Ian went too far.

"He managed to get away, lucky fucking bastard," Ian added darkly, as if to answer Mickey's unvoiced question.

"You think he'll come back?" Mickey managed, heat rising up in his throat.

"No," Mandy said, and she was sure. Ian left Kenyatta nearly unconscious, she was sure he shit his pants before he had the sense to bolt right out of the Milkovich house. "At least not tonight."

Mickey took her word for what it was worth and decided to leave it at that. At that point, he only cared about taking care of Ian and Mandy.

"We'll deal with him later, but for now, we need to deal with you two."

Mickey stood up to go to the bathroom and on his way he paused by Mandy's side. She was still holding on to Ian like a crutch, unable to control her sobs as she held on tighter. Mickey squeezed her shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay, Mandy," he said faintly as he squeezed her shoulder harder and looked down at the two people he loved the most, battered and bruised and, worst of all, defeated. He wasn't sure if he believed his own words, so he said them again, as if saying them again would make it more real.

"It's gonna be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I keep hurting Ian and Mandy, but _fuck_ , I just couldn't manage to change the direction of the chapter without completely changing my plan for the next two.
> 
> Brace yourself, for Kenyatta is not gone yet. But the hardest part is over. Thanks for sticking around.
> 
> -[r](http://girlplatano.tumblr.com)


	6. The House of Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, if there’s anything us Gallaghers are good at, it’s pretending fucked up shit never happened. You’ve come to the right place, Milkovich.”
> 
> Mickey let slip a small smile before responding, “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmastime at the Gallaghers! Traditions and wildness ensue.
> 
> "The House of Healing" refers to the eighth chapter of _The Return of the King_.
> 
> tw for mentions of domestic violence
> 
> Enjoy!

Mickey woke up the next day in his bed feeling like the walls were closing in, because one giant ginger fuck was gripping him like he was a lifeline.

"Jesus, Gallagher, would you ease up?" Mickey grunted as he elbowed Ian off.

"Sorry," Ian murmured. He sounded soft, like something was on his mind. Mickey noticed, so he turned around so that he faced Ian on the bed.

Ian's face was still bruised, but it wasn't as bad as his hands. The redhead's knuckles were so swollen and scratched up; though it hurt to see Ian's wounds, Mickey could only preen at the thought of what Kenyatta's face looked like.

Mickey reached for Ian's hand that lay on his waist and examined the cuts on Ian's knuckles. He lifted the redhead's long fingers in front of his face and softly traced his fingers over Ian's wounds. Ian sighed like Mickey's touch was healing. Mickey noted Ian's wounds from his outburst with the beer bottle had finally closed.

"Looks better," Mickey murmured idly as he put Ian's hand back on his waist and he stared into Ian's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ian said. Mickey rolled his eyes; Ian didn't even try to sound convincing.

"Ian, you woke me up with the fuckin' death grip," he said, voice annoyed but with an edge of worry. He smiled and softened his eyes before adding, "and _not_ with the usual hand job." He quirked his eyebrows when Ian laughed.

"You notice I do that?" Ian teased, "always wake you up with a hand job?" He squeezed his grip on Mickey's waist and moved in closer so that now they're bodies were flush against each other.

Mickey just confirmed with a low moan as he lost himself in Ian's gaze. He closed his eyes when he felt Ian move his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and sweatpants. Just when Mickey settled into the warmth of Ian's grip, the redhead abruptly took his hand away from Mickey's hip. Before the brunette could protest, Ian's hand shot up to his jaw and was tilting his head away from Ian. All he could do next was sigh in pleasure because Ian had started kissing his neck right underneath his ear and fuck if it didn't send an awesome shiver down his spine.

Mickey completely forgot his earlier question as Ian kissed his neck slowly, so languidly that Mickey's entire body eased under Ian's lips and touch.

What remnants of thought that remained in Mickey's mind quickly washed away, because now Ian was sucking on his earlobe and bringing his hand back down to underneath Mickey's boxers.

"Ian..." Mickey said softly as he felt Ian's bruised fingers ghost over his morning wood. Ian responded with a lazy grunt against Mickey's ear.

"Ian," he repeated, somehow managing to remember that there was something he wanted to talk about. If only he could stop fucking thinking about how Ian's hands moved over his erection, pressing down with enough pressure for pleasure; couldn't stop thinking about how Ian was tugging at his lobe and breathing heatedly against Mickey's neck. _Fuck._ _Get a fucking grip, man._

"Ian," Mickey said for the third time, this time more firmly than before. As much as he wanted this little session to go on, something was on Ian's mind and he wasn't about to let the redhead distract him from finding out what it was.

Mickey reached down and grabbed onto Ian's hand to still his movements. Mickey could have sworn he heard Ian growl as he tugged on his earlobe with more intent.

"So fuckin' help me, Ian, if you do not tell me what's wrong I will up and leave and not let you finish what you started," Mickey turned to Ian with a serious face, "and trust me, it'll be harder on me than on you." He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Ian seriously doubted that. He loved seeing Mickey come undone just as much and he loved getting off himself, if not more. Something about how the brunette looked when he was biting his lip, panting, closing his eyes in concentration, while Ian worked him was enough to make his day. Maybe Mickey already knew that.

So there they were, hand in boxers, saliva on neck, and a heated stare-off intensifying more and more by the second.

Finally, Ian caved. He huffed and swung his arm away from Mickey's body until he was laying on his back staring at the ceiling. Mickey sighed in relief because, fuck, he was so close to launching at Ian and letting him finish what he started. Goodness knows his morning wood would still love some of that action.

But enough of that now; Mickey had to take care of something important.

Ian lifted his hands and stared at their bruised state and sighed as if mentally drafting what he was about to say next. After a while, he dropped his hands back to his sides. Mickey instinctively reached for one as he stared at the side of Ian's face; silently encouraging him to say what he needed to say.

"I just...I really lost it yesterday, Mickey. If Mandy hadn't held me back long enough for Kenyatta to get away, I really don't know if I would have been able to stop. He was just on Mandy and all I could think was our promise to her and the next thing I know I'm bashing his fucking face in like it was a punching bag. It was so fast, so red, so _unreal_ , Mickey," he paused and scrunched up his face in discomfort, like revisiting what he had felt in those hazy angry moments was almost as painful as actually being there.

Mickey wanted to squeeze Ian's hand but thought better of it. He instead ghosted his fingers over Ian's knuckles, trying to soothe the bruised and tensing muscles. Mickey wanted to say something in response as well, but thought better of that too, knowing that it was just best to have Ian blurt out everything he needed to in that moment. He instead looked down to their intertwining fingers; wishing his touch could cure every pain.

Ian made no move to acknowledge Mickey's ministrations, but it definitely helped get his thoughts in order. After a few silent moments, Ian turned his head to find Mickey looking fondly down at their hands. He smiled bittersweetly. "I just I just wish you had been there."

Mickey's eyes shot up to find Ian's eyes glossed over. Fuck.

"You think it was easy for me not to lose it during all these months? Every time I wanted to beat the shit out of him, every time I was on the edge for no reason at all other than my mind is _fucked_ ," he breath grew heavy and Mickey could see his fucking _eyes_ start shaking along with the rest of his body.

"Every time," he continued, "I would search for you, knowing you'd help me me through it. Every - fucking - time, Mickey," his words were practically sputtering out, and his eyes grew more and more hopeless with every syllable. "I still search for you," he said softly, more to himself than to Mickey.

It was like Mickey really was his lifeline. And as much as that evoked a burning feeling of pride and fondness in Mickey's chest, he hated that Ian depended on him like that. Because what if what happened the day before repeated itself? What if, for some reason, Mickey couldn't be there for Ian in his moments of dire need?

"I wish you had been there." Ian repeated, looking at the brunette as his tremors began to pass.

Before he knew it, he was up and climbing on top of Ian's body until he was straddling the redhead. He looked down at Ian's shocked face and shocked him some more by resting his hand on Ian's neck and bringing their lips together.

Mickey didn't know what he was trying to tell Ian with the kiss. There was just so much he wanted Ian to know; from how much Ian meant to him, how much he wished he had been there too, to the fact that Ian's needs were Mickey's very own. More than anything, the kiss was one of reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere, at least if Mickey could help it.

He pulled back, just barely though. He breathed honestly against Ian's lips, "Ian, I'm so..." he wanted to say _selfish_ but couldn't bring himself to admit it. At Ian's confused expression, Mickey continued, "as much as I love how much you need me...there must be some other anchor out there for you."

"You're the only anchor I need, though." Ian sounded so broken, as if Mickey was somehow suggesting that, for some reason and at some point, they'd find themselves apart for good.

Because goodness fucking knows the universe loved pitting them against the oddest of odds.

"Ian -"

"No."

"Ian..." Mickey tried again.

"Mick, please," Ian said as he flipped them over so that now he was straddling Mickey. "Don't."

Now it was his turn to reassure Mickey. He kissed him with fervor, like Mickey was slipping through his fingers, because at any moment, he really could. Maybe Terry would get out of prison and snatch Mickey away like he once had before; it had been that easy, yet so brutal. Maybe Mickey's illegal pimping would end him up in the clink too. And even though he knew Mickey was _in this_ , maybe one day Mickey would get fed up with Ian's condition and up and leave. Those were the worst fears Ian had.

Mickey let it go as they brushed their lips together, because nothing was more depressing than thinking about being apart from Ian. And nothing was more elevating than having Ian this close.

"Okay," Mickey managed to say between kisses. "Okay."

It took a while before they separated their lips again, because they wouldn't be apart, ever, if either of them could help it.

 

* * *

 

"Fuck," Ian panted as Mickey arched into his hand. He took in Mickey in his debauched state; a sweating swearing brunette despite the freezing cold. Yeah, Ian wasn't getting off himself but who gave a fuck? Hearing Mickey cursing breathlessly as he pushed his ass back onto Ian's hardened dick through his sweatpants was almost as good as having his dick inside Mickey anyway.

Besides, a hand job in the morning _was_ the usual, after all.

And usually, Mickey was happy to return the favor.

"I'm close..." Mickey whispered as Ian twisted his wrist and pushed his body closer to Mickey's so that the brunette could feel Ian's hardness right on his ass. He cursed inwardly because Ian was obviously teasing, the fucking asshole. Two can play at this game, right?

So Mickey stilled Ian's hand for the second time that morning, though this time he had no intention of stopping their session. Ian growled and bit into Mickey's neck in response but Mickey was quick to husk out, "shut the fuck up."

Mickey moved Ian's hand away from his wet dick and towards the small of his back. Ian smiled against the brunette's neck knowingly and took over the movements by sliding his hand underneath Mickey's sweatpants and immediately plunging two fingers into Mickey. No preparation needed, because Ian's fingers were very slicked with Mickey's pre-ejaculate from his earlier ministrations. Mickey gasped and licked his lips as he tried to muster some sense of sanity.

Now Mickey took over jacking himself off. He made sure he looked over his shoulder so he could see Ian's face - which was totally fucking worth it. The redhead's cheeks were flushed, his lips plump and puckered and wet from kissing Mickey's neck. Jesus fuck, Mickey was so close - easily overwhelmed from how he was touching himself and how Ian was plunging into him and how beautiful Ian looked.

Mickey moaned one last time and Ian's mouth watered at the sound. It was as if Mickey's moan was a fucking calling to have their lips connect again. So connect them he did.

Mickey came hard, spilling over his hand as he let out an embarrassing moan because Ian was still pushing his fingers into him and biting smilingly at his lower lip. Ian moaned too, because Mickey was clenching around his fingers and he couldn't help but imagine his fingers being his dick instead.

They kept the kiss going as Mickey rode out his orgasm. When he finally came down he rolled over so that he faced Ian, keeping their lips locked as Mickey rutted his thigh between Ian's.

"Shit," Ian huffed as his hand dove for Mickey's hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss even more, swiping his tongue past Mickey's teeth. Mickey smiled against Ian's lips because, well, it was time to return the favor.

Mickey reached for Ian's ass while he kept the friction going between his thigh and Ian's dick. He was quick to push both Ian's boxers and sweatpants low enough to free Ian's erection. He wasted no time to grip Ian's dick and start stroking.

"Oh, fuck, Mickey." Ian was panting again as he pulled away from the kiss, and Mickey didn't even try to hide his preening grin. He took in Ian furrowing his eyebrows and his closed eyes and, _fuck_ , Mickey could just look at that face all damn day.

Ian's hands were in Mickey's hair, gripping for dear life and Mickey took his chance to lean in and simply catch Ian's lower lip with his teeth. The simple action elicited the sheerest whimper from Ian; if they were standing up he would have surely buckled down to his knees by now. And that's how Mickey knew Ian was close, so he kissed him again.

Mickey moved his hand faster until Ian was moaning into his mouth, coming all over Mickey's hand, and kissing with pure abandon until he was sighing from the afterglow.

They both remained in that position while they came down, panting against each other's mouths.

"Goddamn, Milkovich, I gotta get you sappy more often," Ian teased laughingly after he managed to get a hold of his breath. Mickey rolled his eyes and shoved away from his dork of a boyfriend.

"Fuck off," he said dismissively. While he'd rather punch himself in the dick before admitting it out loud, getting Mickey Milkovich sentimental was a first-class ticket to a passionate and sensational fuck. He didn't have to admit it for Ian to know; he'd gotten that ticket too many times to need verbal confirmation.

Ian only laughed again as he shook himself out of his post-sex haze and stood up to layer himself in yet another pair of sweats because it was still frigid in the Milkovich home. Mickey followed suit and soon both boys were walking out of Mickey's bedroom like they hadn't just spent half an hour wrecking each other. They weren't wrecked, no, they were completely put together. Let no one tell them otherwise.

 

* * *

 

"Jesus, fuck, close the door, will you?! I can smell the ejaculate from here," Mandy exclaimed as she scrunched up her face in mock disgust from where she stood in the living room.

Ian and Mickey blushed immediately as they both stared wide-eyed at Mandy, both so taken aback by her exclamation they almost didn't notice her battered face.

"Sorry, Mands," Ian let out a low laugh before scratching the back of his head abashedly. He turned to close Mickey's bedroom door before following Mickey down the hall into the living room.

Mickey just stared at his sister as she placed two mugs of coffee on the table. He continued staring as he sat down.

"The fuck are you looking at? You still butthurt about me pointing out your sex stenched room? You're lucky I haven't pointed out the stains on your sweats," she gestured to his crotch.

"Ay, fuck you!" Mickey said defensively as he shoved his seat inward so that the table covered his jizz stained sweatpants, and Mandy only responded with an amused sneer.

Ian sat next to Mickey at the table. He took a sip from one of the cups of coffee as he bemusedly witnessed this sibling banter he loved so much. It didn't last long when Mickey spoke next.

"So what are you going to do, Mandy?" Mickey asked. Fuck if he was going to beat around the bush anymore. When he looked at Mandy, he was reminded of Kenyatta. When he looked at Ian, he was reminded of Kenyatta. Bruises and cuts were the worst kinds of reminders.

Mandy visibly blanched at Mickey's forwardness but sobered against the kitchen counter as she looked at her two favorite boys. She bit at her nails as best as she could, because any lip movement felt like her skin was ripping apart all over again, before she nodded her head to the front door.

Mandy and Ian turned their curious heads to see one huge black garbage bag placed right next to the front door.

"Packed all his shit," Mandy answered simply before either boy could ask.

"Is he coming back to pick it up?" Ian asked, nervous for the answer.

Mandy fidgeted against the counter, obviously uncomfortable with the topic at hand. But fuck, if she didn't face it now, when would she? And she asked herself, was ever going to be easy?

"I texted him," she said lowly. Mickey never felt heat buildup throughout his body so fast.

"I told him to come by to pick it up. Nothing more, nothing less." She'd believe herself if she weren't so goddamn scared.

"We'll make sure of it. But you're not going anywhere near him," Mickey heard himself say.

Mandy looked between Mickey and Ian, unbelieving of the fact that it had come to this. Unbelieving that, despite being in this shit for eight months, despite her excuses and defenses, these boys were still by her side. They always had been.

No more excuses. She'd let them take the reins. She's had them for long enough.

 

* * *

 

"What's the plan?" Ian asked as he followed Mickey back in his room.

Mickey roamed through one of his drawers and picked out a handgun. Ian looked at him in askance.

"You're not really considering shooting him, are you?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? He gets kicked to the curb the day after he gets his face bashed in and you think he's gonna go without a fight?" Mickey scoffed at Ian's optimism. Ain't no way Kenyatta is gonna come without packing heat.

Ian sighed as he followed Mickey out of his room into the living room. Mickey shoved the gun in the underneath the waistband of his sweats and sweater before heading to the door.

They took the garbage bag out to the front of the house; deliberately placing it where the garbage cans would usually be placed on the days the trucks would come to pick them up. They walked back up the front steps and stood to wait for Kenyatta. Mandy stayed inside the house, nervously fidgeting on the couch. She wanted to wait outside with them, but Mickey made it clear that he didn’t want her anywhere near Kenyatta.

But she somehow felt like she owed it to herself to see her abuser walk away for the last time.

After what seemed like forever, she heard a voice come from outside, "where's Mandy?" Her heart sped up and she couldn't sit still. She felt like she was going to vomit.

"Doesn't matter," she heard her brother say, "pick up your shit and walk away. You're not welcome here anymore."

She didn't hear anything for a few seconds, and it was fucking killing her. She had to sit on her hands so they could stop shaking, to no avail.

"Mandy left. She's not here."

"Bullshit."

"Why the fuck are you still trying? There is nothing here for you," she heard Ian's voice now, obviously seething with anger.

"Nothing here but what's mine," Kenyatta sneered.

"What, you think she owes you something, prick? Get your pathetic ass off our block before I beat your face in again."

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ Mandy's mind raced. Fuck, what could she do? She stood and started to pace around the living room before she stopped completely because she heard what sounded like a metallic click. It was minute, but she heard it. She knew exactly what it was. Her heart was in her throat.

_Fuck._

"Mickey, don't," Ian said.  _Did Mickey take out his gun?_

She couldn't do it. She couldn't stand still.

"Hey!" another unfamiliar voice chimed in. _What the fuck was going on?_

"Fuck," she heard Mickey whisper.

"Drop the gun, step away from the curb and put your hands where I can see them," the voice said.

Nope, she couldn't stay in this room anymore. The walls were closing in. If she stayed there any longer she’d probably throw herself out a window. She swallowed, balled her hands into fists, and stepped toward the front door.

"Mandy!" Kenyatta yelled as soon as he saw her figure behind the two boys. He had a gun in his hands and it was pointed straight at Mickey's head. As soon as she took in the scene in front of her, she found that she couldn't move, no matter much every muscle in her body screamed for her to. She could tell that Mickey's hand was propped on his hip, obviously inching for his own gun.

It was good that Ian stopped Mickey from pulling it out, though, because the stranger that Mandy had heard from the living room turned out to someone out to help.

The stranger had to be no older than thirty years old. He had Kenyatta’s stature, and kind of looked like him too. He was dressed in regular street clothes – an obvious tell that this guy was an undercover cop.

“I said, _put the fucking gun down_ ,” he repeated from behind Kenyatta on the street. Kenyatta made no move to acknowledge the order.

Kenyatta’s face was probably busted worse than Mandy’s, but she could see that his incensed expression was directed right at her. Her gut clenched because his face obviously read, _you did this_. She wanted to scream.

Though gun still pointed at Mickey, Kenyatta’s eyes did not leave Mandy’s for a second. Her eyes began to burn and everything froze when Kenyatta took one step forward.

That was all the undercover cop needed. With no hesitation, he shot Kenyatta right in the back of his leg.

The gun dropped, the cop pounced, and the three standing on the porch found themselves letting out breaths they had no idea they had been holding.

“Holy shit,” Ian breathed out shakily. The gun had been pointed _right at Mickey_. He saw his own life flash before his eyes at the thought of Kenyatta pulling the trigger. Holy _shit_.

Kenyatta was squirming and shrieking on the ground but no one could really bring themselves to care because he _didn’t fucking shoot Mickey_.

The undercover cop had called for backup and soon they saw a couple more officers rounding the corner. The three of them let out another long sigh when they saw Kenyatta limping away in handcuffs.

While Mickey and Ian stayed rooted in place, Mandy had already reentered the house to find the nearest thing she could collapse on. Every muscle in her body was shaking. Before the boys could follow, they heard a voice behind them.

“Excuse me.”

Mickey and Ian turned to find another police officer, in uniform this time, looking very serious as he gestured to Kenyatta’s shrinking body in the distance. “Any reason why he’d want to come after you like that?”

Ian and Mickey looked at each other. Goodness knows they've had their fair share of unhappy experiences with the police. They’ve been conditioned to not trust those meant to serve and protect.

They looked back at the expectant young officer, but before they could say anything, Mandy had walked back out onto the porch.

“This is why,” Mandy said simply, shrugging and gesturing to her face.

Ian and Mickey gaped at each other. Mickey started, “Mandy…”

Mandy turned to him. “Besides illegal handgun possession, I need as much charges put on that asshole so that he’s in the clink for as close to life as possible,” she gritted through her teeth.

And she was right; if Kenyatta was convicted of illegal handgun possession and that only, the most he’d get in the state of Illinois would be five years. She would never let herself live it down if she let Kenyatta go without slapping on a few more years. She was going to crush the fucker now that she had her chance.

“Alright, miss, I’m going to have to ask you some questions. May have to take you down to the station for an official report too.”

“Fine by me.”

“Mandy, are you sure? It’s done. He’s gone. Do you really want to wrap yourself in this for the rest of the day?” Ian asked, vividly remembering how long he stayed at the station when he got caught stealing a car with Lip all those years ago. Fucking Jimmy-Steve.

“Ian,” Mandy turned to him with honest eyes. Eyes that said, _let me do this_. 

After a few more seconds, Ian finally nodded. "Alright, then I’m coming with you.”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrows before sighing in defeat, “me too.”

 

* * *

 

It was around eight pm by the time Ian, Mickey, and Mandy finally made it out of the police precinct. The police had filed a report on domestic battery and Mandy never felt prouder of herself. She’d grin if wasn’t sure the action would split her lip open. It was bittersweet. But it was enough.

“Come on, Mandy,” Mickey said as he patted her on the back, a fond look in his eyes as he eyed his exhausted sister. “Let’s go the fuck home, clean up, and sleep.”

At some point while they walked through the snowy, cold streets back to the Milkovich home, Ian stopped dead in his tracks and threw his hands on top of his head.

“Fuck!”

“What, what’s wrong?” Mickey was quick to get into his battle stance; squatting and bracing his arms up as if to block or throw a punch, looking around for any possible threats. Ian would find it cute if he weren't panicking.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Debbie is going to kill me! Now _I_ forgot all about it. Shit, fuck, shit.”

Mickey sighed. “Ay, calm down, bud. We’ll head back tomorrow,” Mickey tried to soothe him.

“No, you don’t get it, Mickey. We have to go _now_. It’s a matter of life and death.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, when did you get so dramatic?”

“Oh, you say that now. You’ve never been to a Gallagher Christmas.”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to change that,” Ian simply said as he grabbed both Milkoviches by the wrists and ran towards the Gallagher home with them in tow.

Mickey and Mandy squawked at the sudden change of pace, but they couldn’t help but laugh at Ian’s frantic state. They looked at each in amused expressions as they ran behind Ian, both knowing full well they’d never be able to shake their dearest drama queen.

 

* * *

 

“You fucking _asshole_!” was the first thing Ian heard when he pummeled into the Gallagher home with Mickey and Mandy behind him. He braced his arms on his knees and tried to catch his breath but couldn’t even do that before Carl and Debbie literally jumped on him, making him fall on the floor with a thud and them on his back.

Mickey and Mandy smirked at the pathetic pile of Gallagher before them.

Lip and Fiona came rushing from the kitchen at the commotion and sighed in relief when they saw who it was that arrived.

“Took you long enough,” said Fiona. She smiled and put her hand on her hip; classic Fiona move.

“Yeah, well, we got caught up with some…stuff,” Ian managed to say underneath the heap of teenagers. He finally shoved them off before standing up and brushing himself off.

The three of them walked further into the candle-lit living room, completely forgetting that they all looked like they had just left a session at the local fight club. They kept chuckling at Carl and Debbie’s childish ways but sobered when they realized how the other three Gallaghers were looking at them.

“You know, I remember you saying something about coming back as soon as you rested up,” Debbie prodded, “but you all look worse now coming back than when you left here.”

Ian laughed nervously and scratched his head, silently cursing at himself for not thinking of an excuse for his tardiness.

Mandy was quick to lift the burden off his shoulders, though. “Kenyatta fucked our shit up, so we fucked his shit up. That’s all,” she said simply as she walked around everyone’s blanched faces and toward the Gallagher kitchen.

Lip stared at Mandy until she passed the kitchen threshold and looked back at Ian questioningly, as if to ask if she really meant what she said.

“Yeah, we kind of got the guy thrown in prison. He won’t be bothering us anymore,” Ian said.

Mickey shrugged uncomfortably. “Can we stop talking about that shit? We were in the precinct for six fuckin’ hours; I’d like to pretend this past day didn’t happen,” he pushed passed the Gallaghers like one Milkovich before him and headed to the kitchen.

Fiona shrugged and beckoned the rest of the Gallaghers to follow them. She leaned her arms on the kitchen counter before responding to Mickey’s earlier comment, “well, if there’s anything us Gallaghers are good at, it’s pretending fucked up shit never happened. You’ve come to the right place, Milkovich.”

Mickey let slip a small smile before responding, “I’m glad.”

 

* * *

 

“This is some fucking bullshit.”

“Mickey, come the fuck on," Ian said exasperatedly. 

"No, nope, not happening. Ain't no way Mickey Milkovich is putting _this_ star," he gestured to the ornament in his hand and then to the Christmas tree tucked in the corner of the Gallagher living room as he said, "on top of _that_ tree." 

"Honorary Gallaghers  _always_ do the honors, Mickey," Debbie pleaded as she tugged on Mickey's coat. 

The six Gallaghers and two Milkoviches stood in the living room later on that night, having just spent the past hour decorating the Christmas tree Lip and Fiona managed to steal (they have their ways) while Ian and the two Milkoiches were gone. While the lights were still out, there was no doubt of the tree's beauty. The candles reflected beautifully off the orbs and somehow the garlands and ribbons evoked some sense of homeliness out of every single one of them. They huddled closer together as they looked in awe at their work.

Debbie was the one who put the star in Mickey's hands. She looked at him expectantly while he realized what she was asking him. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

"So what, I'm a Gallagher now?" 

"If you ask me, you've always been," Ian said softly.

"I don't do this shit," Mickey grumbled. He scratched at his forehead and looked at what really was for him a foreign object: a tree topper. Jesus, has he even ever seen a fucking Christmas tree inside his home before?

Mandy nudged him from behind. He turned to find his sister smiling fondly at him. She didn't say anything but she didn't have to.

"This is so fuckin' gay."

Everyone collectively rolled their eyes and Carl said, "says the 'mo."

"Ay!" Mickey reached out and kicked Carl's foot, making the little thug shirk away with a laugh.

Everyone stared at Mickey as he stared at the star. For anyone who didn't know him better, they'd say he was being a little dramatic about the whole thing. But they all knew this was genuinely terrifying for him. 

He was in his own mind for who knows how long before he heard Debbie start chanting.

"Mickey...Mickey...Mickey..." she kept repeating and was soon joined in by Liam and Carl. The older kids laughed and shrugged, joining in the chant as well. Soon they were all chanting for Mickey so loudly and fervently he was sure passersby outside could hear.

"Mickey, Mickey, Mickey!" 

"Alright, shut the fuck up!" He tried to sound annoyed, but he found himself laughing at their encouragement. He looked at Ian shyly, as if asking for final approval. Despite his doubts, he'd had it all along.

"Come on, Mickey," Ian said as he reached his arm around Mickey and pulled his boyfriend closer. "It's Gallagher tradition," he whispered into his ear. What a sap.

After a few more moments of contemplation, he decided. Mickey shrugged out of his boyfriend's hold and approached the tree.

He cursed himself inwardly as he stepped on the step-stool because, honestly, he was  _excited_. His heart pounded as he placed the star on top of the tree. He almost fell off the stool on his way down because he was so nervous. He made it to the floor in one piece and stared winningly at his work.

The Gallaghers couldn't help but join him in appreciation. They all stared at the pine tree like it had descended from heaven. If they could all see themselves, they'd call themselves sappy fucking dorks. But they'd also know there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

 

* * *

 

The Gallaghers (including those honorary) spent the rest of Christmas Eve's Eve playing games and drinking hot chocolate in the cozy living room. That night they were so caught up in the festive mood that all eight of them ended up sleeping in the living room, all closely cuddled to preserve as much heat as possible. 

Ian was the first to wake up on Christmas Eve. He found himself overwhelmed by the sight before him. Lip lay on the couch with his limbs hanging off the sides, with Mandy sprawled on top of him underneath a blanket.

He was being spooned by Mickey, which wasn't the usual, but he couldn't exactly complain because it was Mickey. He also thought it was very cute that the brunette had unzipped his coat so he could snuggled closer and wrap both his coat and himself onto Ian. His arm was around Ian's waist and he played with Mickey's fingers as he assessed the rest of the room.

Debbie and Carl were sleeping next to each other, head to toe. Carl unconsciously swatted Debbie's foot away from his face when her toe poked his nose. Fiona was cuddled with Liam comfortably next to Carl and Debbie. Ian wasn't sure if he'd seen anything so cute in his life.

They didn't do much for the rest of the day after they woke up. They helped Fiona prepare for Christmas Eve dinner, which was going to be a feast (of this, Fiona was very happy about; getting a good, festive meal into her siblings' stomachs), and that was enough to keep them busy until nightfall. 

As they waited for the last of the dinner to finish cooking in the oven, they passed the time in the living room like they had all those days before. They were all shaken away from their hot chocolates and third round of Uno by hard raps against the front door.

"Fuck," they all said collectively, almost completely sure that it was Frank returning from his three day nap under the L or whatever the fuck he's been up to since Mickey knocked him cold.

Mickey was the one who stood up to open the door, because really, he'd be happy to knock Frank a second time.

He was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to find a grinning and shivering Kevin Ball.

"Mickey, buddy!" Kev pulled the thug into a bear hug as Vee quickly shuffled passed them to get away from the cold, stroller and sleeping twins in tow. 

Mickey couldn't help but laugh at Kev's amicability and tried to hide it by shoving off the giant. "Fuck off, will ya?"

"I missed you too, Mick," Kev responded by ruffling Mickey's hair.

Mickey punched him in the shoulder but couldn't stop laughing. 

Everyone was standing and hugging the new guests, happily inviting them with literal open arms to their Christmas Eve festivities.

"Smells good in here, what's for dinner?" Veronica asked in the midst of the noise of ten other chattering mouths.

"Glad you asked," Fiona said as she waved her into the kitchen. The rest of the guys and Debbie remained in the living room. They took a few more minutes of catching up before they realized that Kev had brought in space heaters.

"You know there's no use for those, right?" Carl asked.

"Nah, lil' guy," Kev said and Carl was quick to roll his eyes at his nickname, "power's supposed to be back tonight. Didn't you guys see they've fixed the chords outside? They just gotta restart the plant for our area." 

"Yeah, I wouldn't count on it," Mickey said pessimistically. He should have bit his tongue though, because just as he finished his sentence, the Christmas tree lit up. And in turn, so did Debbie and Carl and everyone else in the living room, except for Mickey, of course.

Mickey huffed, but Ian laughed and shoved at him playfully. "You  _did_ say the power would be back by the end of the week."

"Yeah, yeah." 

"Alright, alright, folks," Kev chimed in, "as much as I would love to bust Mickey's balls all night, I'd also like warm up." He lifted the two space heaters and set them up in the living room and by the dining table.

"Thank fucking God," said Mickey.

 

* * *

 

That Christmas Eve dinner as a Gallagher was...interesting.

Okay, that's an understatement.

Christmas Eve dinner as a Gallagher was a lot of laughing. It was a lot of reminiscing, a lot of fond looks, a lot hugging and pushing and punching. It was lot of food, and just a little light, as Debbie managed to convince the rest of them to turn off all the lights so that the tree was the only thing illuminating the house (" _Ambience_ , guys," she had said). And of course, it was a lot of ball busting.

And Mickey loved every second of it.

 

* * *

 

"Mickey."

"Mmm."

"Mickey, wake up," Ian nudged at his dozing boyfriend, who was sprawled on Ian's bed.

"Fuck off," Mickey mumbled. 

"C'mon, Mickey, it's time," Ian said as he kissed Mickey's neck chastely. Mickey lazily swatted his boyfriend away at the ticklish contact.

"What fuckin' time is it?" Mickey finally opened his eyes and took in the room around him.

"It's midnight," Ian grinned. Mickey's heart skipped at the sight of the moonlight shining on Ian's smiling face.

"So why the fuck are you waking me up?"

" _Mickey_ ," Ian stretched out his name before continuing, "it's  _Christmas_." 

"Yeah, gotta give Santa time to break and enter and leave our shit so we wake up in the morning to presents, right? Let me fuckin' sleep, Gallagher."

"No way," Ian said as he stood and tugged at Mickey's limp arm. 

" _This_ is the Gallagher Christmas tradition we've all been waiting for," he pulled Mickey's arm harder, "and you are  _not_ sleeping through it."

Mickey rolled over and watched Ian put on his coat and boots excitedly. Ian was so jittery, Mickey almost thought he was manic. But he shook that thought quickly because, this was Christmas at the Gallaghers. It meant everything to Ian; there was no wonder he was so excited.

He squawked when Ian again pulled his arm, this time so hard that Mickey swung right off the bed. 

"Fuck, Ian!" Mickey exclaimed as he rubbed his head from where he'd hit it on the floor. "I'm getting you back for that later."

"I would hope so," Ian teased as he bit his lip. Mickey smiled up at Ian and raised his eyebrows.

"Come on," Ian said finally, softly kicking Mickey's foot. "Put on your shit, we're going outside."

"What the fuck kind of Christmas tradition is held outside?"

Ian was almost out the door and down the stairs when he heard Mickey's question. He turned and leaned against the door frame into the bedroom with a wide grin before answering simply with, "The Bonfire." 

 

* * *

 

After bundling up, Mickey joined Ian and the other nine outside in the lot next to the Gallagher home. Kev and Vee were bantering about how to keep the twins, who were already sleeping soundly, warm in their stroller. Mandy, Debbie, Lip, and Carl were heatedly debating about who was going to light the match into the metallic trash can - a very important task as it initiated the Gallagher Christmas Bonfire tradition. 

Fiona sighed at the chaos, lit a match, and threw it into the can, effectively shutting everyone up as the contents of the can burst into flames. 

"In your places, everyone!" Fiona said.

"So how does this work?" Mickey asked as he settled into the Gallagher circle. He rubbed his hands together and placed them close to the fire, which was now steadily burning.

Ian grinned. "Well, it's simple, really," he began to explain to Mickey and Mandy, who were the only ones new to this, "we stand in a circle, like we are now, and we give a present to the person standing next to us."

You know, being poor and all, we can't really afford to give everyone a present," he continued with an edge of rue, "so we just do this instead every year. We usually order ourselves around the bonfire according to how Secret Santa paired us." He smiled hopefully at Mickey and Mandy, waiting for their reaction.

Mickey laughed dotingly at Ian's excited explanation. "What if we didn't bring anything to give?"

"Yeah, well..." Ian said thoughtfully, "improvise."

"Right," Mickey said with a chuckle. He could do that.

They stood around the bonfire; Lip, Fiona, Debbie, Carl, Kev, Vee, and Ian, all next to each other, just how Secret Santa paired them. Mickey and Mandy stood between Lip and Ian since they've just been added to the mix. All nine of them were too excited for the Christmas tradition to literally unravel.

Mickey was the first to start. He searched wildly through his coat for something that could remotely work as a gift for Mandy. The only thing he came upon was a lighter. His favorite zippo. He played with it in his pocket before sighing and handing it to Mandy in one quick and rough movement.

"This is your favorite lighter, Mick. You won't even let me borrow it to light a fucking cigarette."

"Just take it, douchebag." She smiled and took the lighter from Mickey before turning to Lip without saying another word.

Like Mickey, Mandy didn't bring anything to give, so she improvised. Searched her belongings and decided to unwrap her scarf from her neck, which was dark grey and extremely warm, and handed it to Lip. He looked at her gift, back up to her, and back down.

Annoyed at Lip's trepidation, Mandy rolled her eyes and said, "you don't want it, I'm happy to put it back on." 

Lip quickly took it out of her hands and smiled at the now blushing Mandy. He couldn't stop himself from bringing the scarf to his face and breathing in its warmth.

"Gross," said Debbie.

"Disgusting," said Carl.

"That shit's gettin' real old, kids," Fiona said laughingly, though she really didn't believe it.

Lip turned to Fiona and gave her a poorly wrapped gift, which was in the shape of a book. She unwrapped it frantically and pulled out a battered photo album.

She turned to Lip and he shrugged. "For memories, you know," he said simply. She smiled in response. 

Fiona gave Debbie one of her favorite dresses that Debbie had been dying to borrow for months. Fiona adamantly forbid her sister from wearing it, but in the spirit of Christmas, she thought she'd let something go. Debbie practically tackled Fiona into the snow in gratitude.

Debbie gave Carl a stolen copy of _The Little Mermaid_ and grinned when his eyes honed in on her like she was the biggest asshole in town. 

"What?" she laughed out.

Carl kept staring but finally relaxed before surprising everyone with, "fine, but you're watching it with me." 

Debbie laughed again and nodded excitedly at her brother.

Carl gave Kev and Vee a pair of bear onesies for infants. Kev looked at the gifts and back down at Carl, obviously confused. "Carl, no offense, but I don't think Vee and I are gonna fit in these."

Carl scoffed, "it's for the twins, you ass." 

Kev's face twisted from confusion to realization as he took in what Carl just said. He smiled wide and lifted the teen in his arms, ruffling his hair, and kissing the top of his head with many thanks.

Vee and Kev were next. They handed Ian a party bag with whole lot of tissue paper in it, effectively hiding the present inside. As Ian reached inside to reveal the present, Vee was quick to stop him.

"Don't open it here!" 

Ian looked at them, utterly bewildered.

Vee sighed and leaned toward him, whispering so the others couldn't hear, "it's for you and Mickey. Kev and I thought it'd be great for you two. Take it from us, it's  _amazing_."

Ian's widening eyes told everyone else in the circle exactly what kind of present was in the bag. Mickey blushed and looked to his toes while the rest of the party snickered at them. Ian shifted his feet and murmured a quick "thanks" to his neighbors, those kinky bastards.

The snickering died down when Ian took out a notebook from his coat. He looked at it with sad eyes, flipping through the worn pages, before he handed it to Mickey.

Mickey took the journal and looked at Ian in silent question.

"It's, uh... It's the journal where I always used to write all my ideas."

Mickey looked back down at the journal in his hands. This was the book Ian would always write in whenever an idea occurred to him in his manic moods. He'd write and write and would never let Mickey so much as peek at it. 

He had stopped writing in it when he had his first depressive episode. He didn't so much as look at it since he started getting help. That is, until he thought of gifting it to Mickey for Christmas.

Ian spoke softly, "just a reminder of what you helped me through."

Everyone remained silent as Mickey looked through the journal, unbelieving that Ian was sharing this with him. That Ian was  _giving_ this to him. 

He gave Ian a small smile before pocketing the book in his coat and reaching for Ian's hand. He squeezed hard, in spite of Ian's bruises, unable to bring himself to say anything. But Ian knew Mickey being there, holding his hand in front of everyone was his own way of saying, "thank you." 

 

* * *

 

Mickey lay in Ian's bed, staring at the ceiling thinking over the events of the past week.

Ian slept beside him, curled around Mickey's body like a cocoon. The brunette ran an idle hand through red hair as he lost himself in thought. Which was weird, because it was usually Ian that stayed up at night just thinking.

But this week was not like any other.

Kenyatta was gone, Ian got to be with his family, Mickey found himself actually _admitting_ to himself that he liked spending time with them, fuck, even Mandy and Fiona got to warming up to each other. Everything was changing, everything was getting  _better_. 

Mickey couldn't believe it because for the longest time he thought he was fucked for life. And while he'd surely get fucked for a long time thanks to a certain redhead, he couldn't bring himself to comprehend how things were getting good. How they were staying that way, even with all the shit that would inevitably be thrown in his face down the road.

He'd have Ian, and he'd be okay.

He looked away from the ceiling and looked to Ian. The slight movement was enough to make Ian shake out of his sleep.

"What's wrong?" Ian murmured groggily.

Mickey smiled and kissed his boyfriend tenderly. He pulled back and sighed again at Ian's lazy smile. "Absolutely nothing."

And, in spite of everything that could possibly go wrong in his life at any moment, he really believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked Christmas at the Gallaghers', wait 'til you read New Year's Eve at the Alibi. U 3 U
> 
> -[r](http://girlplatano.tumblr.com)


	7. Epilogue - At the Sign of the Alibi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ain't nothin' like a good time at the Alibi - New Year's Eve edition!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it, folks! Before I knew it I'm typing up this chapter like, the fuck? My _very first fic_? Over already? What the fuck?
> 
> Alas, all good (?) things must come to an end, right? And there's always more writing to come.
> 
> "At the Sign of the Alibi" refers to the ninth (and probably my favorite) chapter of _The Fellowship of the Ring_.
> 
> tw: lotsa booze and ALL THE FLUFF U CAN GET R U RDY?? 
> 
> Enjoy!

The week following Christmas was rough as hell. Mickey didn't get to see Ian once.

Well, that's an exaggeration. Nonetheless, it's pretty much what it felt like to Mickey.

He was frustrated that the only time he ever got to actually be with Ian within the past five days was when they woke up - Mickey to Ian's expert hand jobs, needless to say - and when they ate breakfast. From there, Mickey would go to the Rub 'n' Tug - after all, he did have a whole week worth of of work to makeup for at the Alibi - while Ian took advantage of his newfound welcome (which was, of course, always there to begin with) to the Gallagher home.

Ian would spend the days wrestling Carl, giving Debbie relationship advice, and looking for jobs with Lip's help - if he wasn't already helping Fiona cook dinner or packing a bong with Mandy in his old room. He was happy, and Mickey would wake up every morning with that happiness transferred to him in the most passionate way. Mickey knew the source of Ian's glee and every morning he'd thank himself over and over for agreeing to spend the night watching Disney movies at the Gallaghers' all those nights ago - the night that started it all; the night of the storm.

Despite Ian's newfound contentment, all the new routine also exhausted the hell out of him, and he'd be asleep by the time Mickey would return home after a long day of pimping every night. Mickey also knew that the medication Ian was on often made him sleepy, so instead of rousing Ian out of the much needed rest, he'd just lean on his bedroom door frame for long pensive moments every night, wanting nothing more but to wake Ian up and bury himself in Ian's arms while Ian buried into him.

Vacation doesn't last forever, Mickey knew that. But every hour, minute, second away from Ian - knowing Ian was surrounded by his family and Mandy - he yearned painfully that he could be there too, that he could be a part of Ian's life like that. Fuck, Ian's fuckin' family, and Mickey had been doing nothing the past five days to show for it.

The simple truth was: Mickey missed Ian. So fucking much.

So it was a bit of a blessing, Mickey felt, when he came back from doing some last minute grocery shopping on the morning of New Year's Eve to find Ian freshly wet from a shower, towel wrapped around his hips, and looking as edible as ever.

He really couldn't help himself when he dropped the plastic shopping bags filled with recently bought baby food and rushed to push Ian onto the bed.

"Woah," Ian squawked as he fell on the bed, hardly having time to register that the towel he had been wearing was on the floor now, as was Mickey.

"Don't you want to get your shit off first?" Ian breathed out as Mickey grabbed his cock, working it slowly with dexterity and care. Mickey still had his coats and boots on, and it didn't really seem like a priority for him to get his clothes off.

"Nope," Mickey said simply, eyes never leaving Ian's dick, before deep throating Ian, making the redhead gasp and lace his damp fingers through black hair.

Somewhere in the back of his sex hazed mind, Ian thanked the space heaters that were positioned at the end of Mickey's bed, because he'd be otherwise shivering for two reasons: the way Mickey lapped at his dick and the frigid cold.

That thought quickly vanished when Mickey pulled away from him to mouth his balls, hands still stroking his dick torturously slow. All these years together and Ian still can't pinpoint the exact moment Mickey knew how to treat Ian in the most perfect and pleasurable way. When did Mickey get to know his body so well?

Mickey returned to sucking him off, one hand still playing with Ian's balls, and he moaned around Ian's cock because he knew Ian was close, if the way the cock in his mouth pulsed and the balls in his hand tensed were anything to go by. Ian threw back his head and whined with uninhibited pleasure because the vibrations of Mickey's moan just felt so damn good around his leaking cock. And he was close. Really, really close. But he didn't need to tell Mickey that.

Mickey deep throated Ian one last time before Ian erupted in the brunette's mouth. Mickey closed his eyes at the ejaculation, but the taste was so good he could only swallow and keep sucking until Ian was clean.

Mickey sat back on his heels and sighed in content as a loopy smile crept on his face. He was too proud to hold it in.

Ian was panting heavily and his head was still thrown back in ecstasy as he eased into his afterglow. He tilted his head forward to find Mickey still seated and wiping at his mouth. He looked contemplative, eying Ian up and down until he stood up and got to taking his clothes off. Ian was still reeling from the blowjob to really do anything but watch as Mickey stripped in front of him.

When Mickey was completely naked, he motioned that Ian creep back on the bed, and he did, eyes never leaving Mickey's as the brunette took his time crawling up his body, breathing and kissing at Ian's hips, abs, chest, and neck.

"I've been thinking," Mickey husked out as he sucked on Ian's nipple, making the redhead's back bow towards his boyfriend, searching for more pleasure than just that.

"Mmm?" was all Ian could respond.

Mickey smiled against his boyfriend's neck from where he had moved to suck on it, leaving bruises - the good kind of bruises, the kind that reminds one of the best moments, and not those of terror and pain - in three distinct spots. Ian wanted more pleasure, huh? Well, Mickey'd be damned if he didn't give his boyfriend what he wanted.

"It's been almost a week since Christmas," he said as he bit at Ian's jaw, and Ian literally had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out, because Mickey hardly ever teased like this, but when he did, it was electrifying.

Mickey continued, "and we've yet to christen our Christmas gift." He pulled at Ian's earlobe with his teeth and _that's_ when Ian let out a whimper, because if Mickey was insinuating what Ian thought he was... Fuck, Ian couldn't be able to describe the heat of arousal that spread through his body at that very moment.

Mickey pulled away so that he could look at Ian's face, which was wrecked with so many emotions he was starting to rethink his entire offer. He shook that thought quickly because if there's anything Mickey Milkovich never does, it's half-ass.

He smiled shyly when he finally finished, "I think it's a bit of a shame that we haven't, don't you?"

Ian's eyes widened and jaw slackened as he looked back at Mickey's devilish grin. He quickly gathered his wits and flipped them over so he was on top. He smashed their lips together, both lost in a frenzy of heat and excitement. They're bodies were closer than ever too, but Ian was glad Mickey got him off before, because if they were going to christen their gift, Mickey'd be the only one getting off from it, really.

"Don't move," Ian said after a last clinging kiss. He slid off Mickey's body with reluctance, Mickey grasping softly at his arm until he was out of reach. The brunette hid himself under covers and after a dozen or so seconds, he heard rustling from the corner of the room as Ian revealed the contents of Kev and Vee's gift bag.

When Mickey and Ian first returned to the Milkovich house on the 26th, they had only really peeped into the gift bag that Vee had given them. As soon as they saw what was inside, they shoved it in the corner of the bedroom, too scared to bring their sex game up to the next level.

Five days later and they were still scared, but they were more than ready.

Ian approached the bed again with prostate massager in hand, looking at Mickey as the brunette bit his bottom lip in anticipation.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ian asked softly as he draped himself over Mickey again under the covers.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at his redhead and took hold of Ian's empty hand to guide it to Mickey's crotch. Ian smiled when he felt how hard Mickey was.

"What's it look like, Gallagher?" Mickey responded simply before dragging Ian down for another heated kiss.

Ian couldn't keep his hands off Mickey, dragging his fingers over his arms and jaw and thighs before gripping his boyfriend's hips and whispering out huskily, "spread your legs." His earlier trepidation for this new venture vanished completely when Mickey did as he was told and kissed him more hungrily than before.

Ian reached aimlessly for the bottle of lube by the nightstand next to Mickey's head. He almost knocked it right off because he wasn't looking, too wrapped up in Mickey's inviting body and mouth.

He pulled away, much to Mickey's dismay, to lubricate the toy. When he felt like it was lubricated enough, he then focused on getting Mickey ready. He plunged two fingers inside Mickey without warning, making Mickey gasp against Ian's neck, "fucker."

Ian laughed at Mickey's comment as he looked at their silhouettes through the covers. Mickey was moving closer to him with every thrust, and the thick sheet of fabric hiding their bodies made Ian get lost in his imagination, losing himself in the way Mickey was receiving him. And for the millionth time since he moved in with Mickey all those months ago, a fleeting thought crossed his mind, _how did he ever manage to get Mickey this close?_   He'd wanted this for so long, and whenever he got a hold of it, it would slip right through his fingers, each time more painful than the last. Years later, and Ian was now in Mickey's bed, being trusted by this beautiful brunette to please him and make him happy like this. Ian couldn't possibly begin to think how he makes Mickey happy, but the thought soon lost its importance when Mickey moaned against his skin, "I'm ready, Ian."

Yeah, he'd never understand why Mickey would ever choose him. But he wasn't going to let this moment pass without pleasing him right. He needed to treat Mickey the way he deserved to be treated.

Ian spread his fingers through Mickey's hair and guided his head so that they could kiss again, slipping his tongue inside Mickey's mouth. Both boys lazily breathed each other in through the kiss as Ian brought the massager to Mickey's entrance, pushing in slightly so that the brunette tensed at the contact, tongue getting sloppier inside Ian's mouth. He pressed his hips towards Ian's hand and - knowing Mickey so well that every movement meant a command like, "more," or "move," or simply "just fuck me already, Gallagher," the latter being the usual command - Ian complied.

Ian thrusted the toy in and out like he was fucking Mickey himself, and the brunette was lost in the sensation. He moaned wantonly, unable to bring his mouth away from Ian's as he thrusted in rhythm to Ian's movements.

Ian was so far away in the clouds he'd forgotten to turn the vibration on. He smiled and leaned into kissing Mickey more as he set it on.

Mickey cried out when he felt the stimulation on his prostate, pulling away from Ian and burying his face in the redhead's neck, sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he tried to grasp any remnant of wit. But it really was all for naught, because he was gone before he'd even realized where he was going. Ian rubbed at his scalp, speechless at Mickey's uninhibited cries and pants, as he pressed the massager more fully against his boyfriend's prostate. For Ian, fucking _nothing_ could possibly be more important than this very moment.

"Ian," Mickey managed to gasp out as he moved away from Ian's neck and looked up with glossed over eyes that kept moving back and forth from Ian's lips to his green eyes.

"Yeah, Mick?" Ian shuddered when Mickey moaned before he could answer.

"Touch me...please," Mickey whispered as he closed the distance between their lips again, unable to hold back his moans there.

Ian let go of the massager, which kept still in Mickey's ass, vibrating enough to keep the brunette moaning, and wrapped his long fingers around his boyfriend's dick. He started slow and languid, reveling in the way Mickey moved along with him. Then his strokes became frantic, because Mickey couldn't stop muttering into his mouth, "more, Ian, more, please."

Mickey was only muttering for a little while, because when his orgasm hit he cried out loudly, louder than Ian ever heard him scream before in all his years with him, and his body convulsed as he spilled into Ian's hand. His panting took many minutes to come down, but his daze remained intact even while Ian kissed him everywhere he could reach, cleaning Mickey with his mouth and tongue. All he could do was run his hands through red hair as Ian kissed his neck and jerked himself off; the mere image of Mickey's back bowing in climax being enough to get him off with the help of a few strokes.

They both lost track of time by the time their afterglow began to settle. They were quiet, unable to bring themselves to comprehend that they were here now, at this point, using sex toys to spice up their lives in the bedroom. They weren't complaining about it, but they were both utterly confused that after years, it really felt like they've made it. Like, Kev-and-Vee kind of made it. Ian smiled at the thought of Fiona saying, "If Ian and Mickey can't make it, then who possibly could?"

Yeah, that was the goal - to make it - and they have. They really, really have.

 

* * *

 

When evening came around, so had Mickey and Ian about four of five more times - they really couldn't tell.

Svetlana was home with Yevgeny and Nika, and Mandy was home too. Everyone was getting ready for the much anticipated New Year's Eve bash at the Alibi.

"Here," Mickey said as he dropped a pair of boots in front of Ian, who was seated at the edge of the bed putting on jeans. Ian looked at the boots in confusion before looking up to Mickey for an answer.

"Meant to give it to you for Christmas, but the snow-in kinda pushed it back a little," Mickey said a bit abashedly as he scratched at his forehead.

"Mickey, these are Timberland," Ian said as he took a boot up to assess its newly bought condition, "they must have cost a fortune."

"It's nothing, Ian. You can't be wearing Converse all damn winter. I like you whole, you know," he responded as he kicked at Ian's unclad feet.

It wasn't "nothing," not really. The snow-in really did push back Mickey's plan to gift the boots to Ian. He'd decided to get them when Ian came home once after a long walk with swollen feet that he had to massage back to working order. He just wanted to take care of Ian, and he thought boots were a good place to start - if one didn't count him taking Ian in all those months ago.

"I got them on a deal, okay?" Mickey continued when he noticed Ian's still astounded face.

But Ian wasn't thinking about the cost anymore. He stopped thinking about that when he noticed what Mickey was wearing on his feet.

"Mick," Ian started, "are you trying to get us to match?"

Mickey immediately looked down to his feet at the accusation, which was a stupid idea, because now he was looking directly at his own pair of Timberland boots, the same brown pair that Ian had in his hands.

"Ian..."

"You want the whole world to know we match on this very special day, don't you?" Ian said as he stood up and walked towards Mickey, who was now walking backwards towards the door, too shy to either deny or confirm Ian's comments.

Maybe Ian was pushing it. Maybe when Mickey bought the boots, he thought it'd be cute if he matched with Ian. Maybe he thought it'd be a silent declaration that they belonged together.

But Mickey wasn't that much of a fucking sap. No, he definitely bought matching boots because it was convenient, and who the fuck doesn't want a good pair of boots, goddamn it?

At this point, Mickey was backed up against the bedroom door with Ian's arms blocking any way out. Shit, it didn't help that the kid was shirtless too.

"You know what, you can just forget about the fuckin' boots, Gallagher," Mickey said in an attempt to save himself from this awfully vulnerable moment.

"No, no," Ian said as tilted his head teasingly to follow Mickey's eyes, which were moving frantically for a way out. "Watching you freak out is _way_ more fun," he finished by putting his tongue between his teeth and smiling wildly.

Mickey stopped fidgeting and looked at Ian's childish expression, unable to stop himself from giggling. _This little fucker_ , Mickey thought to himself. Whatever, he didn't know why it didn't occur to him before; the quickest way to make Gallagher shut up was to take his clothes off.

He laughed one last time before shoving Ian off and getting on top of him on the bed.

Ian got to christening his late Christmas gift twenty minutes later.

 

* * *

 

"There he is! The fucker has made it!" Fiona cheered and jumped in joy as she saw Kev round the corner of the block where the Alibi was located, Vee and twins in tow.

"Late to his own party; the fuck kind of host you think you are?!" Mickey yelled rather annoyedly.

All the families were there, three hours before the ball dropped, just as the Balls had specified. Milkoviches, Gallaghers, even Balls. Nika was there too, along with half a dozen of Svetlana's best Russian friends ("Tug Shop is family for them now," Svetlana had said). It was snowing and the cold seeped through everyone's clothing after a good fifteen minutes of waiting for Kev and Vee to arrive.

"Alright, alright, y'all need to calm your asses. Try hosting a party at a bar with a family to take care of," Vee said, trying to sound hexed, but she was just as excited as the rest of them to get the party started.

"Right, like I haven't raised five of my own since I was basically a preteen," Fiona laughed out in response.

"Can we quit the chitchat and get the fuck inside?" Mickey insisted and everyone grumbled their agreement.

When they all settled inside, Kev was quick to set the bar up, turn the channel onto ABC where Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve was playing. Everyone took a moment to appreciate the Times Square Ball which would be dropping in two hours and fifty two minutes, signaling the start of a new year. A wave of warmth spread through the party. It may have been because Kev had turned the heating on, or it may have been because they all couldn't believe they've made it through another trying year.

Kev clapped loudly once and caught everyone's attention. He began the night with, "well, I'm not drinking; got these kids to look after," Kev insinuated to the sleeping infants in their stroller, "and you guys better watch yourselves too." He squinted his eyes at the rest of the party in accusation.

"But let's not forget to have fun, folks. It's New Year's! Let's party!" He clapped once again and everyone cheered, raising their shot glasses and throwing them back like it was the last night of the year.

"Go on, babe," Kev said as he pulled Vee in by the waist. He kissed the top of her head and gestured to beyond the bar, "it's been a long year for you. Have fun; you deserve it."

Vee smiled up at her husband in their little bubble and said simply, "I intend to, baby."

 

* * *

 

"Why is Frank here again?" Ian whined from where he was seated in one of the booths. Mickey was seated next to him, and Lip and Mandy were seated across from them. Frank Gallagher had barged in half an hour earlier, complaining about them not inviting him, and now he was ranting about how Rick Clark was just a capitalist junkie who fed off of people's hopes and dreams to better themselves on a "special" day that was really no different than any other. No one held back their groans as Frank flailed his arms and dramatically spewed out his nonsense.

"You tell me, you Gallaghers are always so fuckin' hard to shrug off," Mickey teased from beside him.

Ian pinched Mickey hard on the shoulder where he had his arm draped. Mickey jumped at the pain but laughed with Ian because they both knew the last thing Mickey wanted was to shrug Ian off.

No one else was expected to come, but Vee and Kev cried out in surprise when they saw who entered the Alibi in the midst of Frank Gallagher's tirade.

It was Carol Fisher, with little Dominick in arms.

If Kev were drunk, he would have probably burst out in tears. Instead, he ran towards his mother-in-law and took his baby boy in from her arms as Vee ran to hug her mother.

"I didn't think you'd make it, ma!" Vee said as she pulled away from her mother.

"I haven't seen my babies in so long," Carol said as tears streamed down her face, "I just thought how great it'd be if I brought Dominick...it's been so long."

"Yeah, ma, it has," Kev agreed as he pulled her into a hug with the arm that wasn't holding Dominick.

Everyone was quiet for the first few minutes of this exchange, but soon the party pulled themselves away from the tender moment between the Balls.

Kev looked between his wife and mother-in-law, and down to his son, before deciding, "Carol, you better be here to party, because ain't no way in hell you're taking care of this baby tonight."

Carol laughed, "are you sure you're okay with him, honey?"

Kev scoffed as he rocked his son in his arms. "I'm more than okay with him, ma." He smiled his reassurance.

Carol took a few seconds before Vee's tug on her arm finally made it clear to her that not only did she need to let loose tonight, but Kev needed to be with his kids more than ever. She nodded with a smile and joined the rest of the party.

While the rest of the occupants of the booth had already wrapped up in their own conversation, Mickey had not looked away from Kev, Vee, and Carol for one second. He saw as Kev took Dominick to his other children, introducing the three of them to each other despite all of them being asleep. He saw the grin plastered on the giant's face as he played with his son's fingers, laughing when Dominick murmured in his sleep.

It terrified Mickey, seeing how easily Kev loved his kids. But Mickey couldn't look away for one damned second, because he couldn't help but want that for himself.

 

* * *

 

There were two hours until the ball drop, and Debbie and Carl were just getting their party started.

"Okay, Kev's too wrapped up in his kids, and everyone else is pretty much trashed, so you should distract everyone with your stupid Polaroid and I'll snag a bottle from the bar and we'll drink it in the bathroom."

"First of all, my camera is not stupid," Debbie responded defensively. One of her boyfriends got it for her, and she put a lot of value in things bought for her, okay? "And second, why can't I snag the bottle? I'm fully capable, you know. Don't let my heels fool you...on second thought, let them," she humphed proudly.

Carl rolled his eyes. "Do you want to get drunk or not?" She nodded furiously.

So, in perfect adolescent fashion, they got to executing their plan. Frank was already passed out in an empty booth, while everyone else was either dancing, seated, or huddle around one of the booths chattering away.

Debbie successfully got them distracted by asking for a group shot. Of course, Fiona was all for it; she had a photo album to fill up, after all. While Kev rounded the bar with his kids, Carl was quick to grab a bottle of Jack Daniel's and hide it in one of the bathroom stalls in the men's bathroom. He made it back in time for the group photo.

After Debbie took her photos, everyone was back to chattering and dancing away. Debbie and Carl high-fived and skipped off to the bathroom to down their much deserved whiskey, hardly noticing that they'd downed five shots when they got around to it.

 

* * *

 

An hour until the ball drop, and Lip was dancing with Mandy in the middle of the Alibi.

"You look great tonight," Lip said as they moved to one of Justin Bieber's songs on TV. They both would rather be dancing to something else, but in the spirit of a New Year's rockin' Eve, they shrugged it off and held close.

"Yeah, my lip isn't splitting open anymore, it's fuckin' great," Mandy responded snidely.

"I'm happy for you though," Lip managed to say, "you deserve better."

Mandy looked at Lip incredulously, trying to find the joke in his words. But she couldn't find any, and she figured that, for once, Lip was being sincere.

She laughed ruefully, "well, douchebags, you know? I don't have time for them anymore. I do deserve better," she said without looking away from Lip.

Lip knew that she was definitely throwing him into the category of "douchebag," and, despite his pride, he couldn't blame her. He didn't know what made him realize it, but he was glad he finally did: he's a fucking dick. So he looked back at Mandy with acceptance and responded, "that's good. Really, really good."

Humph, not the response Mandy was expecting, but it settled something inside her. Seemed like she and Lip found some sort of middle ground they could stay in for a while. Friendship? Not quite. But something just as important.

 

* * *

 

Frank was roused awake forty-five minutes before the ball drop. Debbie was tugging at his arm drunkenly, insisting on a father-daughter dance. He barely recognized his surroundings but supposed that a dance wouldn't hurt.

When the song ended, Debbie grabbed Ian and danced with him next, while Frank looked for some sort of anchor because his world would swirl out of control if he didn't sit the fuck down. He found a seat nearest him and sat down, bringing his gaze up when he heard a groan from beside him.

"I swear to God, Frank, if you fall asleep on me, I will gut you with a fork."

"Oh, hello, Fiona. Happy New Year to you too," Frank groused.

"Forty minutes 'til the ball drop, Frank. Get a grip." Liam, who was seated on Fiona's lap, was now crawling on top of Frank, and Frank idly patted his son's head as he ignored Fiona's stabs at his drunken state.

Frank was up and at it - well, for at least five more minutes - and he felt like he might as well get to know a little more about his daughter. It'd make up for twenty three years of neglect, he reasoned.

"I bet you buy into this whole 'better yourself' stuff of New Year's, huh, Fiona? What's your New Year's Resolution?"

Fiona laughed and shoved at her father so she could get out of the booth. When he was seated again, she looked down at him and smiled. "My New Year's Resolution? To get my kids through another year. Wouldn't want to disappoint them again. I don't know how I could ever be proud of myself if I did."

Frank laughed genuinely before he actually registered that Fiona had just shit on his entire life. By the time he furrowed his eyebrows in understanding and looked up to respond, Fiona was dancing with her brothers in front of the bar.

Frank ended up sleeping through the ball drop, and nobody really brought themselves to care.

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes before the ball drop, Yevgeny threw up on Svetlana.

She spat out a string of Russian words as her gals tried to calm her, but it truly was gross. Mickey was leaning on one of the high-tables when she frantically put his son in his hands, sputtering out something about Yevgeny being just as disgusting as his father.

Svetlana rushed with her girls upstairs to get her redressed before the clock struck midnight. Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?

Ian stood up from where he was seated by the table and wrapped his arm around Mickey's shoulders, which were tensed because Mickey doesn't do this: this whole holding his child in front of people. Jesus, Mickey was petrified. But the arm around him kept him grounded; a reminder that buildings wouldn't crumble by merely having his son in his arms.

The tension seemed to evaporate when Ian leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "ain't that bad, is it?"

Mickey could only chuckle and rock his son back and forth in his arms, testing how it feels. Yevgeny seemed to have settled right back into a deep slumber once Svetlana put him in Mickey's arms.

Both Ian and Mickey were lost in the sleeping child, wondering just what he had done to deserve a place in this fucked up world. Yeah, both boys knew it wasn't the kid's fault.

Their rueful trance was interrupted when they heard a jingle above their heads and a cough from behind him.

Both Ian and Mickey looked up to find mistletoe. They looked behind them to find a _very_ happy Kevin Ball. Then they looked back at each other.

"Kev..." Ian said carefully. Mickey was already edging on uncomfortable, why push him off the fucking cliff?

But he couldn't stop looking at Mickey with the child in his arms.

Mickey couldn't look away either. And then Ian saw it: a smile play at Mickey's lip and a slight nod that said, _it's okay, Ian._

Mickey saw a light appear in Ian's eyes. And Ian didn't know it yet, but he'd wanted this for so long. This wholesome feeling that even if they broke apart to a million pieces, they'd find themselves together again, and a sentimental moment that proved it. A moment like this.

They didn't realize the crowd that had surrounded them, or the fact that Svetlana and the other girls had returned from their fashion emergency. No, what they did realize was that there was mistletoe dangling above their heads and well, Gallaghers don't bail on tradition, do they now?

They don't, and Mickey doesn't half-ass a thing.

Ian placed his hand on Mickey's neck and leaned in slowly, but it felt too fast for Mickey, so he captured Ian's lips and deliberately slowed the pace down even more, if that was possible. Ian ran his thumb on Mickey's jaw and while he wouldn't mind if he could do the same to Ian, the baby in his arms was enough to remind him that Ian wasn't the only one in this little picture of theirs.

They brushed their lips languidly, like it was the last time, but little did they know the moment would last forever. They found this out when they heard a snap and saw a flash behind their closed lids.

They pulled away from each other suddenly, blinking furiously because the light made them see stars in spite of their eyes being close.

"Oh, my God," was the only thing that was spoken in the following moments.

When Ian and Mickey finally got their vision back, they had quite a sight before them.

Fiona had one hand covering her mouth, but they could still hear her lowly whimpering as she looked at the Polaroid picture in her other hand. Lip and Mandy were smiling, shaking their heads in pity at how hopelessly in love their brothers were. Debbie was looking over Fiona's shoulder, also staring in absolute wonder at the picture that was developing at the very moment, depicting a grinning Kev Ball, and two enamored teenaged boys with their baby boy.

Svetlana tried to look contempt, but she couldn't help but feel a little proud that Mickey had really just kissed Ian under mistletoe while holding Yev _in front of other people_. She read the discomfort creep back onto Mickey's face and was quick to take Yevgeny back into her arms.

Mickey laughed and rubbed the back of his head, trying to find something to say. But when he looked at Ian, he thought that he didn't really have to say anything at all.

Ian was grinning and rounding the table to where Fiona and Debbie were standing so he could see the picture too. His grin was fatally contagious, Mickey decided then, because when Ian looked from the picture to him, his own face split into its own grin. He almost forgot that he had really held a fucking child and kissed a boy until mistletoe just five minutes ago. What the fuck?

"Oh, boys," Fiona cried, fanning her face in an attempt to cool herself off, "this is _so_ going in the photo album. I'm just so," she paused to catch her breath, " _proud_."

Ian couldn't help but pull his big sister into a hug, letting her bawl on his shoulder as he turned his body so that her back was facing Mickey and so was he. He looked into Mickey's eyes and said simply, "I know, Fiona. I am too." Mickey blushed and shoved his hands in his pockets, but never once looked away from Ian's proud, proud face.

What a way to end the year.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes to midnight and Carl was puking in a bathroom stall while Debbie chanted "I told you so" behind him, Kev was taking care of four sleeping infants behind the bar counter, Svetlana and her girls were dancing, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Milkoviches were seated in two booths talking about how long it would take before Mickey and Ian got married.

"I can't fucking believe we're talking about this," Mickey grumbled.

Ian nudged him from where he sat beside Mickey. "This could have all been avoided, you know. You didn't have to kiss me under the mistletoe. They won't ever let you forget that."

Mickey rolled his eyes at his dork of a boyfriend, because really, _Ian_ was the one that won't ever let him forget it. And he'd be damned if he said he didn't love to be reminded.

Yeah, Ian was proud, and so was Mickey. He couldn't even deny it anymore. He didn't want to deny it.

"What the fuck!" Kev yelled out before clamping his mouth shut with his hands. Thankfully, the children in front of him stayed sound asleep.

"What?" everyone grumbled from across the bar.

"There's three minutes to midnight! Am I the only one who cares?"

At that, Debbie and Carl ran out of the bathroom towards Kev in a sprint. They stood in front of him, hands on knees, panting, before they straightened up and Debbie said, "he needs water." She gestured to Carl's pale face.

"Drank a lil' too much, didn't you there, pal?" Mickey asked as he stood up from the booth. Carl flipped him off, and Mickey laughed.

"Live and learn, kid," he smiled as everyone got settled at the bar to stare at the Times Square Ball. Two minutes to midnight.

"Live and learn," Ian repeated as his arm crept around Mickey's waist. The room was quiet for a minute and a half; all party members listening acutely to whatever the hell Ryan Seacrest had to say in the most heightened final moments of the year. At thirty seconds to midnight, everyone started chanting the countdown.

30...25...20....

Ian's grip tightened on Mickey's waist.

15...14...13...

Kev huddled around his children with wife and mother-in-law wrapped in each arm.

12...11...10

Mickey and Ian finally noticed that the Russians were counting down in their own language, but only shrugged at the revelation.

9...8...7...

Carl was just trying not to puke again.

6...5...4...

Fiona hugged Debbie from behind and rest her chin on her sister's head.

3...2...1...

Mickey hardly had time to cheer "Happy New Year!" with everyone else. No, because Ian had pulled him close so they could kiss in a way they weren't able to before. Mickey's hands were free and were holding onto Ian's face like he was the only thing he needed to last the year. Hell, Ian _was_ the only thing that made him last this past year. He'd be more than happy to do it again.

"Happy New Year, baby," Ian said as he rubbed his thumb on Mickey's chin. The noise around them clued them in that no one was really paying attention to them. Whatever, they'd get around to congratulating the rest of the party in a bit.

Right now, all Mickey wanted to do was hold Ian's face, which he did, and hold their foreheads together, which he also did, as he whispered back, "Happy New Year."

And so long as he had Ian, it definitely would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! We're here! We've made it! I'm so proud of how far we've come, friends.
> 
> I hope y'all caught what I was trying to go for here. From Kev's relationship with Dominick, to a peek into what was in store with Ian and Mickey and Yev; a start to a new kind of family. Yeah, Debbie and Carl stickin' together like the delinquents they are; Fiona's declaration that her life goal was basically never to be like her father; Lip and Mandy finding some common ground in regards to their own relationship. I wanted to explore a lot more, but I guess I'll save that for the other fics I'll be working on.
> 
> Thanks for stickin' around 'til the very end, folks. It means the world to me and more.
> 
> -[r](http://www.halseystr.tumblr.com)


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